Rules that don't apply to me
by Philis
Summary: Prompted to Kiss, Harry and Ron only oblige because their manliness is at stake. But what if this is followed by a revelation, what if this is only the beginning. Beware the spelling mistakes.
1. Chapter 1

The business of the burrow and the few undisturbed minutes he spent with alone with Ginny, exchanging tender words and warm kisses, almost made Harry Potter forget that there was a Dark Wizard to fight, that his life would be turned upside down as soon as he reached adulthood. It was merely two days away, and he would not be the only one thrown into real life, and real danger in an instant. Both Ron and Hermione knew what was coming, and they had made arrangements to protect themselves and their families.

Harry looked at his imagine in the mirror, right next to Ron's. With the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and overlarge pyjamas, this time hand me downs from Ron, he looked more like a clown than someone capable of destroying the perhaps most dangerous wizard of all times. He found solace in the fact that Ron did not look much braver with the dark lines underneath his brown eyes and too-short-trousers that he had, no doubt, inherited from Percy who was at least a foot shorter than him.

Hermione was sitting on the staircase beside them, fiddling with a beaded purse that Harry assumed to be where she kept her toiletries. It was two days before the wedding, and there was hardly any for everyone to fit into the crowded rooms, and with two families in a house that barely fit one, Harry felt more confined than ever. At first, he had enjoyed the bustling and the number of people that were around, but after days of feeling like like fish in a tin, he longed for the solitude of his old cupboard under the staircase. Of course, it was childish to even think this way, but Harry had taken to going on long strolls around the garden and the surrounding fields just to escape the crowded burrow.

He was often joined by Hermione and Ron, but most of the times Mrs. Weasley managed to keep them apart with sending them to varying other places in which they had to do some minor tasks. He found this very irritating, because although he saw her as an overbearing but kind natured aunt, he sometimes thought her to be rather naive. She was in the Order of the phoenix, so she must have known that if not him, who else would stand before the Dark Lord. He had understood just last year that if one wanted something done, one must do it themselves. There was no such thing as hiding and waiting for the danger to subside. Not for him, at the very least.

„I wonder if there are any homosexual wizards." Hermione suddenly said. To his other side, Ron started gagging and Harry softly hit his back so he would not choke on toothpaste.

„What?" Ron asked once he had started coughing. His face was red from the lack of air and he was still clutching to the sink.

„Well I never _met_ any. I just read that women are often inclined to be drawn to homosexual men." she threw Ron a significant look.

„And you think that I am a fairy just because you like m..."

Hermione blushed in a fierce red but instead of staying silent, she jumped upward and pointed an accusing finger at Ron, „I don't know what by Merlin is going through your head, Ronald. It was only a question!"

Harry could see the banter coming already. In the preceeding weeks, Hermione and Ron had hardly done anything but throw what they thought were secret looks at each other, accidentaly brush hands, feet, shoulders and whatever else was possible to cover up with a quick excuse. It was almost getting too obvious, but it seemed that neither of them wanted to make the first move. Harry often thought that perhaps he should hint them in the right direction, but then he was not sure whether he really wanted to be around his two best friends if they started snogging every other second. Not to mention what kind of horror would be started should they break up. Only briefly, Harry remembered the time Ron had dated Lavender Brown, and just how Hermione had reacted to that. It had scared him more than Lord Voldemort ever had. No, there was really no need for them to start going out now.

When he had finished his thought, he realized that he had lost track of the conversation. Although Ron and Hermione were still bantering on about the homosexual issue, without the missing parts it was impossible to see the bigger picture. Silently, he put down his toothbrush and tried to steal his way out of the bathroom. He was blocked immediately by Hermione's stern look and her two hands placed on her hips.

„What is it, Hermione?" he asked. If they wanted to continue bickering at each other simply because it was easier than admitting they liked each other, he would have no part in it.

„Ronald thinks himself very secure in his sexuality, and I think you two should kiss to prove my point." she said. Harry stopped dead right in front of the staircase, he didn't even want to ask what her point was. He had the impression that she knew he had not been listening either way. Silence fell, and the ice that hung in the air was almost tangible. Ron threw him a ridiculously puzzled look.

„Okay." Harry replied, hoping that she had not meant a tongue kiss. He had never had any problems with homosexuals, or kissing men. He was sure that there was only one person for him, and that was Ginny.

„What?" Ron asked with an incredulous look, but he collected himself quickly. Harry threw him a grin. He had begun fidgeting with his fingers and twirling strands of red hair in them, but as their eyes met he covered the nervous motion by brushing a hand through his hair.

„If it makes you happy." Ron then said with a look at Hermione and stiffly walked over to Harry. It was not a big deal, but yet Harry could feel his heart beat faster and louder, as if there was a bass drum inside of his head.

Ron came to a halt opposite of him, a grin plastered on his face, but his shaking fingers immediately betrayed him. Under Hermione's observant look, he leaned down to Harry who rose slightly onto his tiptoes so they could meet in the middle. They had always been close, but never this close. Ron's chocolate brown eyes were reminiscent of Ginny's soft and kind but yet filled with unyielding strength and will. They were mere inches apart when suddenly Ron pulled back with a huff and covered his mouth with his arm. He was breathing heavily as if he had just finished a ten miles run.

„Let's do this." he said with a shaky voice. From the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Hermione grinning widely.

Again, Ron leaned down and Harry upward, but before their lips could meet, Ron's head snapped back yet again. Hermione chuckled in his back as he blushed and mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

„You're not as manly as you think, Ronald." said Hermione with a triumphant smile and turned toward the staircase that led up to Ginny's room.

Harry's cheeks had grown warmer, and somehow he had looked forward to the feel of Ron's lips on his, if only to compare them to his sister's. For a single moment he had allowed to wonder if he would actually like being kissed by Ron, or if Ginny was the only Weasley that could make him melt in an instant. He shrugged off the thoughts and turned around to leave for Ron's room down the corridor.

He had almost reached the door when he heard Ron snort behind him, followed by quick footsteps. The next moment he felt a hand on his shoulder and was turned around roughly, before Ron proceeded to shove him against the wall beside the door. Hermione gasped, and this time Ron did not hesitate but crushed his lips onto Harry's.

The kiss was different to the ones Harry shared with Ginny. There was something wild and uncontrolled in the clashing of mouths, a strong and slightly bitter taste that filled his mouth when Ron's tongue invaded it. He hadn't thought that Ron would go as far, but there they were, snogging almost as fiercely as Ron and Lavender the last year. Harry hoped that he looked less slavish than Lavender.

After Harry had gone over the initial shock of kissing his best male friend, it actually started to feel good. Ron was still holding on to his shoulders, and one of his legs was between his, effectively trapping him against the wall. He slowly closed his eyes to savor the lips that were so different from Ginny, but yet enjoyable. Finally he was able to understand Lavender a bit better, because as it seemed Ron was a good kisser.

Hermione started clapping behind them, and Ron appeared to realize what he was doing. With a jolt backward he seperated from Harry and threw him a sheepish look.

„Was that good enough?" he snapped while his face turned pink.

„More than. You're a very manly man, Ronald." Hermione replied with the most serious voice she could muster.

Her answer seemed to satisfy Ron and with straight shoulders he disappeared in his room. Increduously, she started at his vanishing back and then at Harry who did his best to bite his lips and not start laughing loudly.

„Good night, Harry." Hermione said, the smug smile still on her face. Shaking her head, she left for the stairs and Harry followed her with his eyes until the door of Ginny's room had closed again. No doubt Ginny would be told all the details of the event, and he could almost hear her ringing laugh in his ears. It was almost worth disturbing the girls again just to see her laugh. Sighing Harry thought about what she would say if he told her that he had enjoyed that small shared kiss. Or how, when he thought about it, he would repeat the incident because Ron was a skilled kisser.

With the first steps toward the bedroom, Harry noticed that there was something wrong, a strain in his trousers that should not have been there and a curious weakness in his legs. In gloomy anticipation, he dragged his eyes downward to find a buldge peering up at him. Groaning silently, he looked at the closed door, behind which Ron was lying sprawled on his bed.

_God damn it_, Harry Potter thought as he turned back to the bathroom, _Don't tell me I have the hots for my best friend_.


	2. Chapter 2

I appreciate the follows and favs ! Also consider that I am more likely to write on this if I get reviews! Phil

Come morning, Harry had almost forgotten all about the events on the day before. Ginny had come to wake them up, and the deep significant look they had shared immediately served to make Harry question why on earth he thought he had enjoyed kissing Ron. Only one more day before he would leave everything and her behind, perhaps even going to his death, and he would have given anything to have more time with her, but he knew that wish would not be granted to him. He had to go, for her sake and for everyone else' he had to defeat the Dark Lord.

Harry spent most of the day out of the house with Ginny. They sat together for a long time and talked about everything and nothing at the same time.

„I know that you plan on going somewhere." she said silently and when he wanted to protest, „I don't need you to tell me anything, I just know it."

Harry started silently at his shoes. At times he wondered if he should finally admit that he loved her, but somehow the time never seemed right. If anything, this would have been the right moment because after tomorrow there was a very high chance that he would not see her again. He had always known that as things were, they could not be, but he had always hoped that some time they would be. Yet, again he could not bring himself to say those significant words to her. How could he bind her to him, when he was not certain he would live to see another year.

„I'm scared, Harry." she said suddenly, looking straight into his face, „I don't want to lose you."

„Ginny, you will never...-"

„No!" she jolted upwards, „I know that. But I am scared I will never see you again. Or Hermione, or Ron."

Ginny sat back down and they both fell silent. A pleasant smell of succulent had filled the air and Mrs. Weasley passed with a buquet of flowers, muttering silently under her breath as if casting or remembering what she still had to do. For the past few days she had been cooking and baking non stop, having to shoo away Ron and the twins from the icing ornaments every other minute. Involuntarily, Harry's eyes began to search for his best friend, until Ginny shuffled beside him again.

„But I'm sure you know what you're doing." she said, sounding unconvinced. Harry turned back to her.

„I promise, I will bring them back, and I will come back too." he said reassuringly, although he did not feel very confident himself. A hint of amusement flitted over her face, but was instantly replaced by anger when he shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

„Don't promise things you might not be able to keep." Ginny said firmly. Her eyes glittered dangerously wet, and she turned around quickly, „But try to keep an eye out for Ron, he wont last long on his own."

At this moment, Harry felt a great surge of affection for her, and he stretched out his arms as if to embrace her, but stopped himself before they touched. It would not have been very kind to nurture her hopes of them coming together and getting married happily.

„Of course I will." he said instead, dropping his arms. His voice was coarser than he wanted it to be, and he he suddenly felt a great surge of fear himself. He had pondered about it for a long while, been about to leave on his own after Mad- Eye Moody had died for him, but Ron had kept him from going.

„Silly..." Ginny whispered as she turned around to him, and before he knew it, their lips met for a soft kiss.

To Harry's great astonishment, it felt different than before. He could not lay a finger on it, but in the soft and sweet apple cinnamon mix of Ginny's lips, he missed something strong. In the almost hesitant peck he missed a certain force that had never been there before. Confused, he wrapped his arms around her, desperate to fix what was wrong with the kiss, but it did not help.

After a few seconds she pulled away and turned her face toward the house, no doubt because her eyes were filling with tears and she did not want him to see them. Again, he was about to reach out for her, but this time she stepped away and without another word left for the house.

„I don't think I'll ever get used to that." said a sheepish voice behind him. Harry did not have to turn around to know who was coming up the small pathway in the meadow to join him. Silently, he watched as Ginny ellbowed her way past one of the twins and disappeared in the house.

Ron flopped onto his back on the ground beside him and closed his eyes. It was windy, but the sun had dried the grass and warmed the air during the day. Harry sat back down beside his best friend, watching his chest raise and fall as he breathed. It was to him as if the motion invited him to put a hand, or his head, onto Ron's skin just to feel the heartbeat. He dragged his eyes off the resting form and gazed into the lawn, where a few garden gnomes, which had been degnomed previously, trotted back to their holes.

„I hope you told her that it's impossible 'cos...-"

„She is no idiot, she knows." Harry replied quickly.

„Good. You're my best friend, but she's my sister." Ron snorted and shrugged his shoulders, gesturing in the air at a loss of words.

„Don't worry."

Ron seemed content at those words, and after only seconds Harry could hear him snore silently, leaving him to his own thoughts. Ginny's words still seemed to burn in his ears, and everything had become much more realistic when she had told him to protect Ron. Harry had known there was a possibility that they would not make it out of the situation alive, but seeing Ginny afraid for them had made it more dangerous and serious than ever.

Looking at Ron's peaceful face, and his heaving chest, Harry knew that he would not let anything happen to him. The thought of Ron getting hurt was almost ridiculous to him, because his friends were always the highest priority to him. Even if he was not the most powerful wizard in the whole world, just like his mother he would not stand aside should anyone try to harm them. Silently he laid down beside Ron, tucking his hands under his head and followed a group of birds flying southward with his eyes.

Only when the sun already begun to set, and it was getting darker, Mrs. Weasley appeared in the distance again. She seemed outraged at finding them together, but merely reminded them that it was time for dinner. Harry rose to his feet and held out a hand to pull Ron up. His hand was cold, and Harry only barely suppressed the urge to run his thumb over the skin to warm it. He quickly let go.

„It's bloody cold." Ron said with a huff, „How can your hands be that warm."

„Want me to warm yours?" Harry asked, feeling almost like a teenager asking his first girlfriend to hold hands. Ron must have been thinking the same, because although he looked away quickly, Harry did not miss the slight hint of a red shade that creeped up his cheeks.

„Okay." he drawled, stretching his hands into Harry's direction but avoiding his eyes.

Both confused and excited, Harry took them into his own and immediately felt a slight tremor. He was not sure if it had come from himself or Ron, if it was merely the cold or something else. He started to rub over the back of Ron's hands, sliding his thumb over knuckles and gently kneeding the cold skin until it began to warm up under his fingers.

„Ah." Ron purred, „Much better."

Tentatively, Harry slid his fingers over Ron's arm and to his equally cold shoulders, where he rested his palms to spend some warmth. Amazed, he watched as tiny goosebumps appeared on his best friend's skin, and the soft read spread from his cheeks over to his neck when Harry started to rub his shoulders.

Ron was inches away from him, the back of his neck almost inviting Harry to place his lips on it and suck on the soft skin. If he could just come closer to Ron, run his fingers further down, experience more of the feel of the body in his hands.

Harry cleared his throat audibly and dropped his hands from Ron's shoulders to clap him on the back and gently push him into the direction of the burrow. Those thoughts were inappropriate and highly uncalled for, and he had no need for a repetition of last night's cold shower either. He could not remember having felt any of those feelings for Ron before the kiss yesterday, and for a second he wondered if his best friend felt the same.

„Inside it will be warmer." he said with a grin and hoped that Ron had not noticed his quick breath.


	3. Chapter 3

On a slim camp bed at the Burrow, in his best friend's room, Harry lay awake until four in the morning. This time it was not because images of Voldemort, or Cedric's empty eyes or Dumbledore's broken body tortured him, but something much more tangible. If he squinted, he could see the outlines the source of his sleepless night, calm and innocent, lying on his bed, not knowning what was going through his best friend's head. He was just inches away, and while that was not unusual for either of them, Harry had, to his own astonishment, begun to listen to his deep, undisturbed breaths. It hardly ever bothered him if Ron snored like a giant, or if he turned over multiple times in his sleep, but something had changed and now he was aware of every breath.

He would have almost preferred a nightmare, a vision of Voldemorts dark deeds, to awkward feelings emerging inside of him. He liked the way Ron breathed. There was something soothing in the long, peaceful sound. Harry tucked his hands underneath his pillow and stared out of the single window in the ceiling. The dark sky was surprisingly clear, and Harry begun to count them, hopeful that at some point it would make him tired enough to fall asleep. It was his birthday, and one day before the wedding, and he would just not do if he looked like something recently deceased during this important time.

„Uuuh." Ron mumbled beside him and immediately, Harry was wide awake again. He narrowed his eyes on the slowly shuffling form.

„Ron?" he whispered.

„Mh, Harry." the shuffling stopped momentarily and Ron's head appeared from under the blanket.

Harry grabbed for his wand and conjured a soft light.

„Ugh, don' do that." Ron mumbled.

„Why are you even awake?" Harry said.

„Why are _you_ awake?" Ron replied. „You're not havin' nightmares again, 'ave you?"

„No it's nothing. I think I was just thirsty." Harry improvised, because he was not sure how Ron would take the truth.

„Okay. Oh yeah... what I wanted to say. Happy birthday Harry." Ron grinned sleepily. He flopped back onto his stomach, burried his head in his pillow and outstretched a hand to pat it on Harry's shoulder. In the darkness he missed and the hand landed in his hair, but he did not complain.

„Thanks, Ron."

„G'night." Ron grunted. „Presents tomorrow."

Harry extinguished the light silently and laid back down. He waited until Ron's breaths had become deep and steady again before he turned around to look at the hand that was still hanging out of the pile of body, blankets and pillows. The watch he had received for his seventeenth birthday emitted soft light as his eyes fell upon it, bright enough so he could read the digits. Two in the morning, and yet Harry did not feel like sleeping after all.

The place where Ron had touched his head was still warm, not a temperature warm, but a soft, pleasant feeling that threatened to spread further south of his body. It felt a bit like he had been taken back in time and was a young teenager again, trying to avoid thoughts about Cho Chang while lying in an empty Gryffindor dorm at six in the evening. That had never quite worked out, and sooner or later he found himself back in the shower to get rid of certain traces. But now he was nearly an adult and he could not possibly find an excuse for having a shower at half past two in the morning.

With a big sigh, Harry tucked his hands back under his head so they would not wander. It was impossible that he should even be thinking about his best friend in such a way. And it was even worse that when he compared Ron with Ginny now, he felt like there was nothing to compare. He had always loved her, the long red hair and the strength and power that seemed to emitt from her whole form. When he looked at Ron, it was different. As if he wanted to protect him, and shield him from harm, unable to bear even the thought of losing him.

Harry turned around again, and groaned into his pillow. He had to sleep, and it had to happen now, because otherwise he would not be able to raise when Mrs. Weasley came to wake them at seven. There were still a great many things to do before the wedding, and he was sure that it would raise suspicion if after his birthday night he appeared as if he had not slept at all, that with everyone knowing about his affection for Ginny.

It was only an hour and one thousand and two hundred twenty stars later that Harry finally drifted into a peaceful slumber. He was woken too early by Ron, who looked as if he had only opened his eyes moment ago. His hair was ruffled and rose to all sides, his eyes barely opened and he looked more than ever like the ghoul in the attic, who would replace him shortly. Relieved, Harry realized that in the broad daylight, Ron looked less enticing and his features less touchable than in his overly active mind.

Insisting that he open it right away, Ron handed him his first seventeenth birthday present. Just as Harry believed that the confusing feelings about his best friend were finally subsiding, the book _Twelve Fail Safe Ways To Charm Witches_, without magic, was freed from its wrappings and Harry could not but feel a vicious stab into his heart yet again. There was no doubt that Ron and Hermione were going somewhere, soon.

On the bright side, Harry thought gloomily, he could now use magic for everything and his shoes. At least while untying the awful knot his magic had made into the shoelaces, he could clear his head from all the regretful thoughts about his two best friends and focus on working on the happy face he would no doubt make when they at some point told him they were getting married.

In the afternoon, Ginny took him aside and kissed him like she had never before. Everything unspoken between them was placed in one single kiss, and although Harry enjoyed the feel of her soft lips on his, he could not help the hollow feeling of despair. He had threatened this moment most of all, because it meant that he was leaving her for a greater good. He had intended that, if he survived, he would come back to her after it was done, and that they would live a happy life, but now this kiss was a Goodbye. And it was not her saying it.

The kiss went on almost too long for Harry to bear, although it was only seconds. Placing his arms around Ginny, he wanted to hold on tightly, because she the moment was fading away too quickly and he did not want it to end. He did not want it to be over, but he felt great relief when Ron burst into the room, followed by Hermione. Ginny turned her back to him, angry, perhaps sad, but the moment was broken and all that Harry wanted to do was run and hide. He was both thankful that it had ended quickly, and angry because Ron had innocently and unknowingly broken the bond that Ginny and he had had.

He spent the rest of the day sorting wedding presents alone, and neither Ginny nor Hermione or Ron tried to join him. At times, Mrs. Weasley came to check on his progress, but he suspected that it was only to control whether they were plotting secretly. Harry found that impossible, because Hermione had been with her the whole day helping with the food, and Ron had disappeared after scolding him for kissing his sister again and potentially confusing her.

In the evening, everything seemed forgotten as the first visitors for both Harry's birthday and the wedding the next day arrived. Hagrid wore his best, most horrible furry suit, Lupin seemed grayer and more miserable than ever, and Tonks at his arm was beaming at Harry widely. In the dim light of the evning, and only for a tiny second, Harry meant to see the shape of a giantic black dog, but as he looked closer it was only the shadow of a bush. If only for a minute he could talk to Sirius about everything, and tell the man how much he missed him. Banning the thoughts about his godfather from his mind, he turned around to where Lupin was ushering Tonks into a chair with a grumpy face. Her belly and Lupin's frown had grown considerably larger since he had last seen them.

Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself with his birthday cake. Just one day before the wedding, she had prepared a giantic, snitch-shaped pastry for Harry that floated on top of the dinner table. As he looked around the crowd, Harry realized that he had never felt so happy and overwhelmed before in his life. For the first time in his life, he spent his birthday surrounded by people he admired, respected and loved. Hermione observed him with a knowing smile, and next to her Ron's grin seemed to radiate from the seventeen golden candles on his cake.

Hermione had been bewitched to show the number seventeen and some of the crabapple trees glittered with golden leaves. Somewhere behind him, Ron was complimenting Hermione, and despite the beauty of the evening, Harry could not but feel a slight stab in his heart. He reminded himself that that was the way it was supposed to be, and that he was only confused because he was leaving Ginny. The longer he had thought about it, the more likely this seemed to be the reason for his inexplicable, sudden affection for Ron. He had consoled himself by thinking that it had to do with seperating from Ginny again, and that Ron was her brother and not that different. Surely once he came back, she would appear just as lovely as always again.

As soon as they were on the road and the emotional uproar forgotten, those feelings would no doubt stop molesting him. Content with this explanation, he skimmed the crowd for Ginny, how gestured to a space right beside her. Originally, he had intended not to sit beside her, because he did not want to argue with Ron about it again, but the table was already crowded, so he dropped into the chair beside hers.

Right after they had finished with the main supper, and were about to cut the cake, a soft pop-sound was audible in the front yard. Sixteen heads turned toward the small path leading toward the house, where, in the limelight of their eyes, the minister of magic was making his way up to them. Harry felt like he had been taken back in time, but this time Rufus Scrimgeour had not come alone. He revealed his companions as the last will of Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore and handed out items not only for Harry, but also for Hermione and Ron.

As Harry's fingers closed about the first snitch he had ever caught, he felt a soft vibration, as if the object was remembering their first contact. Hermione was watching him closely, and he was sure that she would have something to say about it once the minister had left. Herself, she received a copy of an old children's stories books, and Ron the deluminator that Dumbledore had often used himself.

By his best will, Harry could not find a common denominator in those items or the sword of Gryffindor that he supposedly had inherited too. Only, the minister informed them that it was missing. Often, he thought that Dumbledore simply overestimated him and his mental capabilities. As he looked again, Hermione looked just as puzzled as he felt.

„We'll never figure this out." Ron said after they had returned back to their rooms. „Even Hermione couldn't make sense of it, and that's saying something."

His forehead wrinkled as if he was about to deny this idea, but he decided against it.

„I mean it's neat, look." he clicked the deluminator and the lights went off, „But how will this help us defeat You-Know-Who?"

He turned the piece in his hands, „Do you reckon there's something inside it maybe? Should I try and break it open? Or do you reckon he just went completely mental?"

„There must have been a reason he left them to us." Harry repeated for the fifth time. He was not sure whom he wanted to reassure of Dumbledore's expertise, Ron or himself. It was curious that one of the greatest wizards of all time should have left them useless objects for their quest to defeat one of the most powerful dark wizards. There had been an article in the newspaper that confirmed he had experience fighting the Dark Arts, but Harry doubted he had done this with an old children's book, a device to switch off lights and an old snitch. It was more than a riddle to him why exactly he had left them those items.

„But what _is_ the reason?" Ron mumbled.

Harry watched him for a moment as he bent lowly over the device and searched, perhaps, for a hidden switch. The seriousness suited him. As if he was determined to find some sort of clue, he was focused entirely on the deluminator in his hands. There was something mature about the way he investigated into his inheritance and the sudden intelligence that gleamed in his eyes. The unusual sight sent a warm shower down Harry's spine, and hot blood rushed downward before he was able to think about young Snivellus Snape's undergarments.

Hastily, he rose and slid onto his camp bed and pulled the covers over his lap.

„You're tired already?" Ron asked, finally putting the deluminator aside. „I'm so excited I could stay awake the whole night."

„I don't think that's wise... uhm..." Harry cleared his throat, „You wouldn't want Fleur coming after you if you fall asleep at the wedding."

„Not sure that I wouldn't." Ron said dreamily.

„Well I don't fancy a cascade of French gibberish before I have the chance to say Congratulations." yet again, Harry had to ignore a jab at his heart.

„Yeah best not." Ron looked sour at once, „Bill is such a lucky bastard. Do you reckon we'll ever find someone like Fleur?"

„I'd say you have the best chances, considering the way she looks at you." to his great annoyance, his voice was more heavy with spite and irritation.

„Who?"

„Nevermind." Harry turned around. It had to be this way, he tried to convince himself. It had to be Ron and Hermione, just like it had to be him and Ginny and Bill and Fleur. There was no other option, and just because he felt desperate at the dark prospects of his future, it did not mean that suddenly he had stopped loving Ginny and wanting to be with her. It was ridiculous to think that he had, considering he had spent all of the last years watching her, kissing her and admiring her. It was sheer impossible that she should not be the right person for him after all.

Yet, Harry found himself pondering long after Ron's breath had become calm and peaceful. The night before the wedding, a time of joy and unity, Harry felt more disconnected to everyone else than ever.

Thanks for Follow, Fav and Rev. Phil


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for revs! Phil

When Harry took the first sip of the polyjuice potion, provided by Tonks with hair from a local red-headed muggle, and the brew thickly ran down his throat, it felt as if the bitter taste in his mouth was only a small hint at what was to come. As soon as the procedure of tranforming into someone he did not know by name had finished, Harry squeezed himself into his now-too-tight dress robes and made his way downstairs. The guests would arrive shortly, and he and a few others had been volunteered to show them to their seats. Not that Harry minded, although he could hardly move in his confining garments.

Downstairs, he found Hermione and Ron, happily bantering. He dropped down onto a chair next to them and waited until they became aware of his presence. Suddenly, he could not deny that Hermione's attitude and the way she tried to force her ideas onto everyone else irritated him. Not unlike an intolerant teacher who dismissed everyone's opinon but his own and had only become one because he enjoyed hear himself talk in the first place. Most of all, Harry found that he disliked the way she looked at Ron invitingly with her charming brown eyes.

As neither of them registered his presence and the bickering would not stop, Harry rose with a sigh and joined Fred and George who were peering down the small pathway in the garden.

„Is that you Harry?" asked Fred as he approached. Harry was finally able to keep them apart, although it hardly mattered because in the end they were as one.

„My name is Barry." he replied with a smile.

„Are they still at it?" George jerked his head in the general direction of the kitchen and Harry understood _they_ to mean Ron and Hermione.

„Yes." he said lamely.

„They've been going at it all morning."

„We've been wondering when Hermione will finally make the first move..."

After having spent the night tossing and turning yet again, Harry felt no great desire to discuss the reasons of his lack of sleep, but the twins were looking at him expectantly and he found that if he declared his unwillingnness, they would perhaps become suspicious.

„Why do you think it'll be Hermione who will... make a move?" he asked and it seemed the exact question they had been waiting for.

„Well look at Ron, Harry... Barry." Fred's hands landed on his shoulders and he was turned around. Harry looked and saw an old married couple quarreling over dinner plans and which socks would be washed first. There was an almost revolting tenderness in his best friends' eyes and it almost made Harry recoil.

For a few moments he allowed himself to observe the adoreable way Ron ducked his head when Hermione wriggled an accusing finger at him, and how he twitched backward as her skilled fingers reached upward to fix his tie. He could see what Fred and George meant, only he could not shake the feeling that he did not like it. Hermione was strong and determined, and at some point she would win Ron for herself. That was, if he did not do it first.

„Quite frankly..." he could hear Fred start in his back but he was too preoccupied to hear the last part of the sentence. Just when had he started thinking about winning Ron for himself, and how could it be that suddenly his other best friend seemed more of a rival. Especially at a time like this when they should stick together, and Harry should embrace everything that brought Hermione and Ron together so they could work properly beside each other.

„You're not listening, Barry." said George reproachfully and Harry woke from his thoughts with a start.

„Sorry, what did you say?"

Both twins regarded him with a curious look, before they exchanged one themselves.

„Well..." said George.

„We sort of always thought that Ron was, you know..."

„No I don't?" Harry raised and eyebrow at them.

„Gay." Fred shrugged his shoulders.

This came as a surprise to Harry and his head jerked back to where Ron was continuously shuffling away from Hermione's threatening wand. His fingers were busy trying loosen his self-tying tie, which appeared busy trying to strangle him, and the shuffling wrinkled his new dress robes.

„But if anyone, you would be the one to know, right?" George added and Harry jolted.

„What does that mean?" he had answered too quickly, and he knew it, because the frown on the twins faces became even deeper.

„Haven't you been best friends for the past six years?" Fred prompted.

„Oh. Yes." suddenly, Harry felt stupid for thinking that anyone would have noticed what was going on in his head.

„So have you noticed anything... unusual?" George said with a grin.

„Don't forget he's been snogging Lavender Brown for the past year." Harry said.

„That doesn't mean anything."

„It could be a cover-up."

„Even if, it's not like the prospect of Ron's tongue in my throat is very enticing..." Harry mumbled, his eyes following every movement of his best friend's delicate fingers.

Neither twin looked as if they were convinced by his act, but instead of digging deeper, they pointed at the entrance of the garden where four young wizards had appeared. Harry understood them to be the ones responsible for helping with the setup for the festivities.

Several hours later, after the vows had been exchanged and the drinking had begun, Harry found himself sitting on a single table with his friends, observing the crowd dancing. Luna, in curious sunflower-yellow, had been able to look right through his disguise and Harry could not help but feel the slightest hint of both fascination and respect for her remarkably exact perception.

Being Barry had its advantages. He could observe people without them looking back, because unlike about the famous Harry Potter, no one gave two thoughts about Nobody-Barry. He had been able to both learn more about Dumbledore's past and escape a crowd of admired who valued him for something he could not even remember himself.

Minutes ago, Ron had dragged Hermione onto the dance floor and Harry was left to stare at them disappearing and reappearing between the other couples. As he observed his two best friends, something began bubbling in his stomach, and roaring like a ferocious beast inside of his chest. He remembered vaguely that it was the exact same feeling he had felt when Ginny had started dating Dean.

„We could dance, if you'd like." Luna said suddenly.

„Luna... I really would, but I don't feel like it." Harry said gloomily.

„I know." Luna's lips curved into a smile, „But I thought that maybe you would want to get closer."

Harry gaped at her and immediately cursed himself for being so obvious about his displeasure. Albeit Luna was hardly the type to spread the delicate news that Harry Potter might be gay, and had a crush on Ronald Weasley, if one could call it that, it seemed difficult that she should be the one to know about it. But somehow, the knowing smile made Harry suspect that she already did.

„It would not help." Harry said vaguely.

„You don't know that. Often even in the darkest places there can be found light." she looked at him mildly, and he did not have the cruelty to snort at her optimistic thinking. As she drifted off, Harry looked after the long, blond waves until they disappeared in the crowd.

„Harry, is that you?" a heavy body dropped down beside him and he realized it was Ron.

His forehead was covered in a light film of sweat and he looked more exhausted than after a Quidditch match against Slytherin. Harry's gaze was immediately drawn to his still lively eyes and the red shade on his freckles cheeks. Together with the suit, he looked the most handsome Harry had ever seen him.

„That's Barry." he replied clippedly and Ron shrugged his shoulders.

„All she wants to do is dance. I think my feet are gonna fall off." Ron moaned, pulling off his shoes.

„Oh please, Ronald." Hermione had followed suit and looked at his gray, holey socks disapprovingly, „What will people think if they see your big toe poking out!"

„I don't really care, Hermione?" he sighed.

„Well you should. I'm going to find Viktor."

Ron lazily waved an arm at her and grabbed for a glass of orange juice from one of the floating trays. For a few moments there was silence, before he spoke again.

„Sometimes I think dating a bloke would be so much easier, you know?" he frowned at Ginny who had started dancing with a delicate French wizard in blue robes, „If they just weren't so pretty."

Harry bit his tongue to keep his lips sealed, but after a minute or two had passed, the words just came bubbling out without warning.

„Want to dance with me then? Just as a joke." to his horror, there was a big fat suggestive grin plastered on his face as well, „After all we're cousins today, I bet Fred and George would approve."

„Like hell they would." Ron answered gloomily, and Harry's spirits sank. If his best friend took this wrongly, he would have to run for the hills. „They think I'm some kind of wuss already."

„I don't." Harry said quickly.

For a moment, Ron just looked at him and Harry was about to dismiss the idea with a laugh when he stood up and extended a hand.

„Well fine, but I swear if I hear the word gay from them another time, I'll strangle one." he mumbled. In the dim light of the evening it was difficult to make out his face, but Harry meant to see a hint of red.

Taking Ron's hand, he let himself be pulled into the crowd. For the first time he was both taller and more voluminous than his best friend, and he immediately took the opportunity to take the upper hand.

„Let me know if the girl part is less exhausting." he mumbled.

„Then I wont spare you the nagging either." Ron answered and reluctantly laid a hand on his shoulder, letting Harry lead him onto the dancefloor.

Even as he cautiously placed a hand on Ron's waist and they started to move with the music, Harry could not quite believe what was happening. He had hoped that Ron would say yes to this awkward proposal, even knowing that it was a bloke asking, but now that he had, Harry was unsure what to make of the situation. Slowly he guided the dance, for the first time careless about the feeling of several pairs of eyes watching his every move.

For a moment, even Bill and Fleur stopped turning to regard them with a curious look and he feared that the staring would make Ron uncomfortable and he would want to leave. Harry did not want him to, because although this was a big joke to his best friend, it wasn't for him. He doubted that he could have felt as excited if it had been Ginny in his arms.

„I really believe that you don't always want to the Choosen One." Ron mumbled against his chest and Harry rose an eyebrow.

„Come again?"

„Everyone's staring." Ron whispered. His cheeks had visibly flushed with red now and Harry found it hard to draw his eyes from the bright colour.

„I thought you wanted to be in the spotlight once in a while?" he grinned.

„Changed my mind." Ron hissed back.

As if to come to their aid, Fred grabbed George's wrist and pulled his twin onto the dancefloor where they entangled themselves in a tight embrace and started to swing on the spot. The way they clung to each other as if all of the wedding was a bad comedy show was highly amusing, and soon enough the attention of the crowd was divided between both couples.

Bill and Fleur resumed dancing, and her radiance immediately won back everyone's gaze as if this was a competition. To Harry, it was regretful because he wanted nothing more than to make known that he liked Ron, and for a moment pretend that his feelings were reciprocacted.

The song ended too soon, and Harry almost wanted to ask for them to stay for another, but Ginny was watching them with an almost suspicious expression and he found that it might have been too much to dismiss as a joke. Instead, they made their way back to an empty table. Ron seemed to be glowing, and despite his initial humiliation at being stared at, his grin was wider than ever.

„That must have been my first gay dance ever." he giggled as he dropped down beside Harry.

„Must have?"

„Being the girl aint so bad." Ron leaned back lazily. „Least you don't have to think about the next steps."

_You should get used to it_, Harry did not dare to say it out loud.

„I think I get it now." Ron continued, „You and Ginny I mean."

Suddenly he looked gloomily again and his eyes drifted throught the crowd, no doubt searching for his sister. Regardless of Harry's promise that he would not do anything with Ginny, at least not until the threat of the Dark Lord had disappeared, he appeared uncomfortable by the thought of him and his little sister.

Harry tried not to notice the implication, because acknowledging it would have meant that Ron did not even consider them as more than friends.

„I'll get some fresh air." without waiting for a response, Harry made his way out of the giantic tent and into the cool night air. The moon was shining brightly and illuminating the fields surrounding the Burrow beautifully, almost divine. Harry listened to the laughter from inside, trying to imagine his own wedding with Ginny. Before, it had always worked to elicit cheerful bubbles and lighten his mood, now it only felt as if heavy metal chains were wrapping around his chest. Without wanting to, he had managed to get himself into trouble again, and unlike all the other times there was no one for him to confide in.

„Hello again, Harry." said a gentle voice beside him.

„Hi Luna." Harry did not move.

They stayed silent for several minutes, until Luna spoke again.

„Look at that. There is light on the horizon." only for a moment, Harry thought she had referred to preceeding events, and he was about to respond when an almost fragile, delicately thin hand rose pointing upward into the sky. Harry followed the gesture with his eyes. There was a bright star on on the horizon that he had not registered before. As they watched, the form began to grow and emit bright, silvery light.

The patronus impacted into the tent like a comet, and wizards and witches spread to make space for the forming figure. Once it had taken shape, it spoke in the deep, soothing voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, but the words were more horrific and frightening than anything Harry had ever heard before.

„They are coming." the words echoed through the tent and seconds later, black smoke filled the air. Jets of light flew past Harry as he pulled Luna down and back inside. Frantically he skimmed the room for both his two best friends and Luna's father, but she surprised him.

„Here, Harry!" she shouted over the multitude of screams and guided his hand that was holding hers to another.

„Where is Ron?" Hermione yelled.

In the split second that Harry's eyes met Luna's, he realized that he could have told her anything and that she would not have judged him for it. She would have known what to do, what to think, what would happen and what would not, but now it was too late. Ron was stumbling toward them and Hermione reached for his hand, and instantly Harry's stomach lurched upward and then twisted painfully as she transported them out of the Burrow's reach.


	5. Chapter 5

During the middle of the night, Harry woke up from his worst nightmare yet. This time it had not been Cedric falling to the ground, or even Sirius slipping through the veil, but Ron and Hermione's lifeless bodies, their eyes staring up to him accusingly. _Had it not been for you, we would not have died_ they seemed to say, and Harry had recoiled. He had turned around and ran, but although their bodies were unmoving, the image followed him until he woke up covered in sweat and breathing heavily.

Hastily, he jolted into a sitting position turned his head first to one then to the other side to check if they were okay. It was dark, almost too dark to make out anything, but he could see their silhouttes at least. At last he could make out a tuft of long hair and the tip of a nose, an arm curving down the sofa and its fingertips meeting with five digits draped on the ground. His heart clenched, but he forced his hitched breath to calm and stayed silent to hear them breathing. Only when he had filtered out two distinct streams of air he plopped back onto his makeshift bed.

Even when they had been running away from the Deather Eaters on Tottenham Court road mere hours ago, his scar had begun itching, nothing like the painful soring it did when Voldemort killed, or the agonizing twitching he felt when the dark wizard was torturing information out of some unlucky soul. It came more quietly, almost reluctantly, prying, the connection reopening only slowly and from anew Harry felt the Dark Lord's feeling ebbing from inside of him. He had never quite understood why Occlumency had failed to properly work for him, because for a while after the ministry he had given his best effort to learn it, albeit only to protect the Weasleys and Hermione.

At the thought of his friends, great fear began to bubble in his stomach. It would be his fault if either of the Weasleys, or the guests were injured or killed. It had been reckless of him to even stay with them for longer than not-at-all in the first place. Every reluctant step he had taken away from the wedding and into hiding had felt as if Harry was approaching a funeral. Their funeral. It was lucky that he had no idea where Hermione kept the beaded bag, and that he could barely remember where he had put his glasses while being the red headed muggle, or he would have left right away.

It took some time for him to fall asleep again. His eyes kept drifting off to where Ron and Hermione were almost holding hands. _It must be love_, he told himself, ignoring the clenching of his heart. Really, what chance did he stand against Hermione who was both smart and good looking. He had no doubt that when this all was over they would finally come together as they would be forced to, or risk losing each other when each of them entered different professional worlds and found new acquaintances. Harry drummed with two fingers onto his stomach to calm the storm that was building inside. Even if he dared trying to make a move on Ron, by the end of the year he could very well be dead, and after all he had seen when dating Cho, he had no desire to put anyone through it. Granted Ron even accepted his advances as such.

At the thought of Ron and him together, Harry could not but grin stupidly into the darkness. Just like the feeling when he had first dated Ginny, it made him all giddy and wide awake. He felt almost like a teenage girl, phantasizing about a forbidden but handsome teacher. Groaning, he turned around to the other side to shake off the image of his best friends holding hands.

Almost an hour of hopeless cheerfulness and giddy feelings passed until Harry's eyes closed yet again for the few hours until dawn. This was the time when, at last, Ron and Hermione joined him on a scavenger hunt through the house and they came across R.A.B in the form of old lettering on Sirius' brother's door. After Harry's house-elf Kreacher had left in pursuit of the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Ron's stomach grumbled loudly and they decided that it was time to clean themselves and find something to eat.

It was only at this first breakfast in their shelter, that Harry noticed something was going on between Ron and Hermione. And it did not seem to be something good. Whenever she made a gesture in his direction, he would shuffle backward every so slightly, and when she started to speak, it seemed as if his eyes became unfocused as if he was not paying attention at all. This was curious, considering that he had always thought that something would develop between his two best friends for sure.

Harry found it curious that Hermione did not notice it herself, or maybe she did and just pretended not to. Perhaps it was merely his wishful imagination that they did not get along as well as he had thought. When Harry thought about it, the most likely option for Ron's reserved behavior was that he was worried about his parents and siblings. After all they had left the Burrow in a great rush, and not heard a word from Ron's family since then. He did not know whether the Weasleys were injured or, and Harry recoiled innerly at the thought, whether someone had died. If something had happened to Ginny... Harry's stomach lurched.

„Does your scar hurt again?" Hermione asked, an edge to her voice.

„No." Harry replied. The last time it had hurt had been late the evening before, when Harry realized that Voldemort was looking for something else than just him.

„Your face is white." Hermione hissed, „Something must be wrong, don't think you can hide anything from us, we're your best friends."

„Yeah mate." Ron piped up, „If anything's on your mind, it might be important to defeat You-Know-Who."

_Stop siding with her all the time_, Harry ground his teeth onto his bottom lip and stared into his bowl of cornflakes. He could not possibly tell Ron that he had been thinking about Ginny and the rest of his family. It seemed that he believed Harry to know more than they did, and that the connection to Voldemort supposedly told him everything the Dark Wizard knew or did. It was far from the truth but Harry could not risk even mentioning Ron's family without him becoming anxious to return to the Burrow. Neither of them could show their faces there for at least some time, and possibly never again should things go wrong.

„Just this and that really." Harry improvised, „About who we can trust, or how to destory them in the end."

Both Ron and Hermione were watching him sharply, and he could tell that neither of them were buying his story. He shrugged his shoulders and took another spoonfull of soggy cornflakes just so he would not have to continue talking. He did not know what to say, and the way Ron and Hermione leaned closer to each other and exchanged a significant look was almost enough to vanish his hunger. He had tried his best not to think of Ron as anything but his best friend, but denying that he had deeper feelings for him was futile. When Ginny had started dating Dean, it had felt as if there could be nothing worse happening to him, not even a triple _Cruciatus_. Now, it seemed that he had found something that broke his spirits even more so than seeing her kiss his classmate, and that was the knowledge that Ron and Hermione felt deeply for each other and would, at some point, be able to reveal it.

They spent the rest of the day waiting inside for Kreacher to return. Despite the sparse breakfast and lunch, Hermione would let neither Ron nor Harry take the invisibility cloak outside. Neither of them felt very much like overpowering her and forcefully looking through her beaded bag for it. On top of Hermione's superior magic skills, Harry had always been rather suspicious when it came to women's handbags.

As it became dark outside, Harry frequently checked the square in front of the house for intruders. Anyone who had the least bit of knowledge about Harry and his friends would have been able to guess where they went, and he was surprised that no Death Eater had showed up in front of the house yet. Snape knew about Grimmauld place and the order, he knew that Harry had inherited the house from Sirius. As a smart man, he would be able to draw one and one together in no time, so why hadn't he.

There had been no news from the Weasleys in any way either, and the lack of information on what had happened on the Burrow gave him a stronger headache than a square full of Death Eaters ever could. It seemed as if the thought of someone having been injured had frozen at least part of his brain. He would have felt it if something happened to Ginny, _wouldn't he_? Or if either of the twins were hurt. The night in which Mr Weasley had been attacked he had felt it, no, seen it. This was hardly any different. Suddenly there was a bitter taste in his mouth, he knew he would give everything to go back in time and keep himself from the vision of Sirius being tortured. Clenching his teeth, he wandered up to the next floor, keeping his mind focused on his surroundings instead.

Albeit no one had lived in it for at least a year, it was surprisingly tidy and the layer of dust could not have been older than half a month. As he moved up the stairs, he considered if maybe Snape had been using the place as a hideout, but dismissed the thought as his eyes fell on the spot from which a dusty, rotten figure of Dumbledore rose whenever someone entered the house. It was highly unlikely that Snape, who had in fact killed the old wizard, would pass it as unharmed as the three of them had.

Harry knew that Sirius had always hated the house in which he had, to the last day of his life, been unwelcome above anything else. The thought that it had been the final prison of his godfather revolted him greatly, but with disgust he realized that it was impossible to deny the feeling of security the shabby old place elicited in him. It was as if any second one of the gray, neglected doors would open and Sirius would emerge from one of the rooms, beaming and pulling him into a tight embrace.

_Not a child anymore_, Harry thought and bit down hard on his lip and continued his way downstairs. Behind him on the narrow staircase, a set of moth-eaten curtains was fluttering dangerously close to opening. He stopped dead in front of the door behind which he knew the Black family tree to be. He had no desire to see the burnt black hole that had replaced Sirius' name when he was sixteen, but he found his hand drawn to the door's handle nontheless.

Soft footsteps were coming down the stairs behind him, and Harry let go off the door handle. He had no desire to explain to Hermione how utterly left alone he felt at times like those.

„Does it still... you know, hurt?" Harry turned around and found himself face to face with Ron. He was carrying a bundle of clothes for change and a toothbrush, evidently on his way to the bathroom.

„Of course it does, Ronald." Hermione chipped with a sympathetic look. „How could it not..."

To Harry's great annoyance, one of her hands grabbed for Ron's and she pulled on it lightly, her eyes regarding him with a significant look. Any other time he would have appreciated her effort to give him time alone. Ron stood still, stubbornly unmoving.

„You go first." he said, his eyes still fixed upon Harry's. As she let go of his hand, Harry could not help the deep sigh that escaped his lips.

„I know what you're going through." Ron remarked as soon as Hermione had vanished and the bathroom door had closed behind her.

„No you don't." Harry replied. As far as he knew, Ron had never lost anyone, nevermind anyone close. Neither did he have to fight the perhaps most dangerous and powerful wizard of all times, or romantic feelings for his best, straight friend. „You really don't."

„I didn't mean You-Know-Who, you know?" Ron rolled his eyes at the bathroom door, „Sometimes I really can't tell if she's being a pain on purpose or if that's just her."

Harry considered those words carefully. For years on end he had thought that Hermione and Ron would at some point end up together, that they were made for each other. He had never even dared to think that it could be anyone else for them. But Ron's words had made him feel as if it was not as written in stone as he had thought.

„Is there anything going on between you two?" the words just bubbled out of his mouth and there was no stopping them, „I mean I saw you hold hands at night and... the way you look at her."

Ron's jaw dropped, and then he took a quick look at the bathroom door, „I don't know." he almost whispered. „I can't tell how I feel about her. Sure it feels nice and all... but..." Ron shrugged.

„Did you ever consider her feelings?" Harry whispered back.

„It's just I can't help comparing her to... ugh." Ron's hand wandered upward to brush through his hair, „I don't know anymore."

Harry rejoiced at those words, because they meant that maybe what he had thought to be true was not at all written in stone.

„But you used to like her... remember?"

„Used to." Ron said gloomily, „I still do. It's just sometimes... in school we weren't Always together, you know? Now that she is around all the time... it reminds me a bit on Lav."

He paused for a moment, and then said with an angry tone that bordered on jealousy „Is it important? Do you like her or something?"

Before Harry could reply, the door to the bathroom opened and Hermione came toward them. She had fixed her long, wavy hair into a bun and now that she had cleaned the last traces of dust and make up from her face, Harry could not deny that she looked beautiful. Anyone thought otherwise was no doubt either blind or stupid. To his great annoyance, Ron was neither.

With an inquiring last look at him, Ron shrugged his shoulders and left for the bathroom while Hermione beckoned him upstairs. Reluctantly she had agreed that either of them should sleep in seperate rooms because the floor and the sofa were no permanent solution. She had made Harry promise that he would not lock his door, disapparate or vanish without them. It was not one that he was too confident he could hold, but he had given it anyways. With the connection to Voldemort opening again, and the nightmares that resulted from it, as well as the confusing feelings for his best friend, Harry had thought it a relief to have a room to himself, if only for a while. He had chosen Sirius', because it felt most like the Gryffindor common room, a place that he felt safe at.

Silently, he watched Hermione conjure a steaming pot and three mugs, one of which she set aside for Ron. She tipped her wand at the pot once and after it had poured tea into the remaining two, they floated toward them. With her legs crossed under her, she watched intensely as he took the first sip. It was never good when Hermione looked like that, because meant that she had something on her mind that needed to be discussed. Harry only hoped that she would not start about how he should learn defensive theory, again.

„Are you alright?" she asked tentatively and Harry quickly constrained a moan. He had known it would be something like _Your scar is hurting again, isn't it?_.

„Yeah." he said.

„You've spent a lot of time alone lately."

„I always do."

Impatiently, Hermione shook her head as if trying to get rid of a persistant fly, „More than usual."

Harry knew it was true, mostly because when he was alone he could almost convince himself that his affection for Ron was merely friendship, and that it was Ginny who he was meant to be with. That and the horrible feeling of guilt he felt whenever he looked at his two friends who, and whose families, he had put in danger by just being there.

„I've only just put everyone in danger." he said, „And if I ever get caught..."

He fell silent. _Kill the spare_. Voldemort's voice echoed inside his head, and he saw Cedric getting hit by a jet of green light again, and his limp, dead body dropping onto the ground. He had witnessed murders before, but Cedric had been the first he could properly remember. Even more than that, it stuck to his thoughts like honey, tainting everything else with a nauseously sticky tint.

As Hermione did not reply, Harry's thoughts drifted further. Barely a few days back he had watched his Aunt and Uncle being evcuated into a savehouse of the order. Even they, despite rejecting anything that had to do with magic, must have felt the threat that was upon them as long as Harry was around. He had never felt at home at Privet Drive, but the other option that Dumbledore had told him about, being dead, seemed even less enticing. He had started school, found friends and Sirius, and for the first time he had known real love. The last few days had left him feeling strangely disconnected again, because he knew he would be the one to blame if anything happened to either of them.

„At times I only feel like I don't belong anywhere." he said quietly.

„That's bull and you know it." heavy footsteps emerged from the stairs and Ron looked at his friends, „You belong with us. Mum thinks you're kind of her step son anyways. And I..." he fell silent.

_And you, what?_ Harry was about to take Ron's collar and shake it. _You what?_ But most likely, he would have said that he saw Harry as a brother. He wouldn't want to hear that, not from Ron. He had always considered Hermione a sister, and although he had spent the past years thinking of Ron in a closer-than-best-friends and brotherly way, now it seemed out of place to see him as a sibling. Ron's face had gone red and he looked away sheepishly, leaving Harry to gape at him in confusion, surely he had no wanted to say _And I see you as a potential boyfriend_ or something along those lines.

„You have us." Hermione broke the tension. She put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed tightly while throwing a scolding look at Ron. _Perfect timing, as usual, Hermione_ Harry put his hand over hers and pat it lightly.

„I know." he said lamely. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, and Ron's concerned look on his features, but at times he thought he just wanted something more than friendly hugs.

Thanks for revs. Phil


	6. Chapter 6

I hereby express my disappointment with the lack of revs. I know it was a rather insignificant chapter compared to the others, but it still had more than hundred readers. Phil

Several days passed until Kreacher was back, Mundungus Fletcher involuntarily in his wake. It was a start, and not only did he admit he had stolen the locket, but also gave them the information who had took it, and it made each of Harry's hairs stand. He had hoped never to see Dolores Umbridge again, but now it seemed inevitable. Remus had warned them before that he was perhaps the most wanted person in all of Britain, but a visit to the ministry of magic seemed to be inevitable. I would practically put him right in front of the fangs of the snake, but if this was their only lead, he was prepared to go that far.

They did not come back to Grimmauld placer after they had obtained the locket from Umbridge. They had no choice to, because one of the ministry workers had apparated with them and no doubt found out about their hiding place. It seemed that their last shelter had been taken away from them, but Hermione surprised them once more.

Ron still needed help to get back into his bunk bed, and Harry had begun to suspect that he was merely prolonging the pleasure of being cared for. It seemed that Hermione was perhaps like a second mother to him the way she worried and tended to him. The tent still looked the same as it had before, held in cheerful red and yellow, it almost reminded him on the Gryffindor dormitories. For a single moment he wished he could go back there now and leave Voldemort and his confusing feelings far behind. It had been rather a shock to see Ron on the ground, bleeding and unmoving, and immediately it had reminded him on the night his best friend had almost died from poisoning. Again, he thought about leaving, but now he had already dragged them too deep into the whole of events, if he departed now they would be in even greater danger than if he stayed.

„It's a shame we couldn't go back to Grimmauld place." Ron said suddenly and a hint of amusement flit over his face, „I was looking forward to the roast beef Kreacher promised."

Harry's lips twitched with amusement, and even Hermione could not help but smile. It was one of those rare moments where Ron forgot that they had not eaten anything but dry mushrooms and tasteless fish from the local rivers for weeks. All had gone downhill once they had obtained their first Horcrux, which had instead of filling them with enthusiasm, filled them with great pain. With no way how to dispose of the evil device, the three friends felt more useless and helpless than ever, and Ron was the one where it showed most. Whenever it was his turn to carry the Horcrux, he became unreasonably angry and fed up with everything. He had even gone so far to throw one of the scarce meals that Hermione had prepared into the mirror with his plate. It was not very pleasant to be around him whenever he wore it, but Hermione insisted that they stick together. Harry spent most of his days thinking, although he had nothing particular to think about. A million times they had discussed both their situation and their quest to bring down the Dark Lord, but nothing usefull had ever come of it. They had begun to slowly lose the spark of hope they had had.

Hermione sat down on the edge of his bed and gently placed a hand on his arm. He watched silently as her skilled fingers slid under the sleeve of his shirt at the collar and peeled it off his shoulder to look at the neatly bandaged wound. In that moment, Harry wished that he had listened to Hermione about the importance of learning some healing spells, because it would have given him the opportunity to come closer to Ron without seeming suspicious. As he shrugged off the remainder of his shirt, Harry could not but stare. The endless walks they had taken while relocating and the scarce food had both made him more lean and developed his muscles. As Hermione touched his naked skin, he almost flinched, which earned him a roll of her eyes.

Harry observed his muscles tense and goosebumps appear on his arms. With a sigh, he tore his eyes from his best friend and rose from the chair he had been sitting on. If he continued to watch, it would not doubt affect his body and mind in both good and bad ways, just like in the first nights they had spent in the tent when he could hear Ron moan in pain. Despite all the wrong reasons, Harry's body had reacted to the sounds until he had desperately tired covered his head with a pillow. It had only helped to block out the sounds, not the images that flooded his head about Ron writhing in pleasure underneath him.

It was almost dark outside, and it was his guard duty tonight. He had never been scared of anything much, not even of Voldemort himself, but sitting in front of a tent in the pitch blackness of the forest was not his favourite thing to do at the freezing temperatures of late November. Or perhaps it was nearly the December, seeing as the last newspaper Hermione had obtained dated weeks back. Harry searched the ground for something edible, but there was only so much food in the beginning of winter if they stayed in one place. He tried to look as far into the forest as he could, hoping to perhaps find a sign of a nearby village, but there was none. Only the forest lay in the light of the setting sun, and soon it would be too dark to venture further than the invisible boundaries around the tent allowed.

Several hours later found Harry sitting in front of their temporary home with his wand at the ready. Lately he had taken to watch the Marauders map for a hint what was going on in Hogwarts. There were two names, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, and only vaguely Harry remembered that some time he had heard they were Death Eaters. This suspicion was only confirmed by the amount of time they seemed to spend in Dumbledore's old office with Snape. It was a mystery why the stone gargoyles had even let Snape in. As Harry's eyes threatened to close, he tucked the map inside his jumper again and wrapped his blanket closer around him. Had it not been incredibly cold, it would almost felt cozy.

Harry could not quite deny the feeling of exhaustion and tiredness that took over at times. Even worse, he had been wearing the Horcrux all day and although it did not affect him as much as Ron, he could feel dark and angry energy seeping out of it every second. Worse than even that, at times it was to him as if the object, which contained a small part of Voldemort's soul, was speaking to him in a silent hiss, almost like parseltongue, but when he listened closely, he could not make out any words or meaning behind the noise. He thought that it was quite possible he was imagining all this as it was his third day without a full night's sleep, and had he not been busy with thought, he would have started crying from the immense pressure and exhaustion he felt in his bones.

He did not dare to conjure much light, and often he sat without any because it gave him a wider view into the forest. He had never been superstitious, but the mejestic trees and the nightly sounds seemed less threatening the further he could see. It had gotten colder, and something told him that Winter was approaching rapidly. He had lost track of time completely during the weeks they had spent in hiding, and the last time he had laid his hands on a newspaper was several weeks past already. Hermione had nicked it in the early hours of morning from a farmhouse they had passed, leaving a few coins on the treshold instead. Harry wondered if the muggles had been confused the next morning, and if they had spent their whole day thinking about or discussing this odd coincidence.

For a moment he wished that he could change place with either of them, and give the burden of hunting dark magical artefacts to someone else. He drew his knees up to his chin and laid his head on top. He still had those feelings for Ron, and although dormant due to his recent mood swings, Harry felt them resurface every time his best friend passed on the horcrux. But the object was not only meddling with Ron's mind, he though, because lately when he looked at Ron he felt the urge to push him down onto the bare ground, dominate him, climb on top of him and ravage him right there. It was good that neither Ron nor Hermione had ever learned Legilimency, or he would be in deep trouble.

He had often wondered what Ron thought about him, and he had decided that he might be disgusted by what he felt. Although he was certain that Ron could not care less about same sex relationships, Harry doubted that he would enjoy the thought of his best friend staring at him every time he looked away.

Suddenly, there was noise inside the tent. From his spot outside he could hear the faintest of shuffling noises and hushed, agitated voices. Harry was immediately wide awake. _Had someone surprised them and gotten into the tent from behind?_ Hastily, he extinguished the tiny ball of light he had conjured. The noise grew louder, and for a second he thought he could hear Hermione, but was unable to make out her words clearly. There was a short gasp from inside and more shuffling followed before it went quiet again. Maybe someone was holding them at wandpoint and gluing tape over their mouths like in one of Dudley's detective series. He dismissed the thought that either of them could have called for help had they been ambushed, reasoning with that they did perhaps not want to give away there was someone other than them. Not for one moment it occured to him that it could be something entirely different, something entirely consentual.

His wand at the ready right in front of him, Harry Potter tiptoed closer to the entrance of the tent to find out what his best friends and their supposed kidnappers or snatchers were doing inside. The closer he came, the clearer he could hear some muffled sounds, like a fresh smacking noise and a low rustling. Perhaps if he pulled away the fabric of the tent just a bit he would be able to see without being seen and thus determine whether his best friends had been taken hostage or Ron was just having nightmares. Harry shuffled closer to the entrance with his breath held and his heart beating in his throat.

„Ron!" only Hermione could manage to make her voice sound both sharp and soft.

Harry grabbed for the section of tent that hung in front of the entrance. Ever so slightly he peeled it back until the fabric made way to reveal a big enough hole to look through. Harry stooped down beside it as if to climb into their mobile home, but only brought his eye toward the hole.

Immediately, his gaze fell upon the two bunk beds to the right. Ron's was the one on the bottom, Harry's right above it. There were no kidnappers or culprits of any kind in sight, only Ron was sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajamas with Hermione to his side. They were connected at the lips, lost in a deep kiss that made Harry's stomach turn. Tightly, Ron wrapped an arm around her, as if holding on to her for dear life. After a moment, his hand cheekily slid into her pajamas and he could see it moving upward until she broke the kiss and a gurgling, hissing sound escaped her throat.

„We talked about this." she snapped, „Keep your fingers with you."

„But that's impossible." Ron groaned hoarsely and despite the repulsing image of his two best friends snogging, Harry immediately felt a rush of heat headed south. „I can't help you're so...- so...- beautiful."

Hermione giggled softly and Harry imagined he saw her blushing. Of course that was impossible, both because it was dark and because she had turned her back to him when she leaned back toward Ron again, no doubt to stick her tongue into his mouth. The smacking sounds continued as their lips met again.

Harry considered if he would get out of the situation alive, should he burst in there and shout at his best friends. He wanted to slap Ron and pull Hermione's stupidly long and wavy hair out until she was bald and ugly, and then maybe scratch her eyes out. Instead Harry slowly let go of the section of tent. His fingers had gone numb from cramping around the fabric and his knuckles stood out in a pale white.

There was no reason to be angry or sad about this. _Absolutely no reason_, he told himself desperately as he forced his lips to spread into a smile. Apparently, they had finally made up, _Good for them_. Really, he must have been kidding himself thinking that Ron might at some point like him back. He had known it all along that it would end like this, so why did it feel as if his heart was being ripped apart? His eyes began to fill with tears as he plopped back down on his surveillance spot, and Harry wiped at his eye angrily. After all he had lived through, he would survive this as well. He had been naive to even for a moment think that it could be anyone but Hermione for Ron, and he felt pathetic for the empty and lost feeling that was rapidly spreading inside of him. It was perhaps the Horcrux that had deepened his painful emotions, Harry thought as the dabbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper did not work anymore and the tears just came pouring out.

Out of his pocket he produced a fragment of mirror which had once belonged to Sirius. Or his father. Either way, he did not know what he hoped for because both of the former owners had already passed on. Just like Harry felt after surprising his two best friends in He-did-not-know-how-far-they-had-gone activities. He doubted that he wanted to know after all, because the thought of them kissing alone sent angry shivers down his spine. _Why couldn't it be him_, why did it have to be the old fairytale of a boy and a girl, couldn't it be a boy and a boy for once? _Of course not_. It was an unspoken rule that in the end of the story, the hero always got the princess.

Staying awake until dawn was no trouble after all. When Hermione took over both the Horcrux and the shift at sunrise, for Harry to catch some sleep, she did not look as if she had spent the night snogging their best friend. She did not comment on his red eyes, perhaps she thought he was simply tired. He was, but when he laid down in his bunk bed to rest, the sleep would not come. Only several hours later, after they had already relocated and it was Ron's turn to keep watch, Harry passed out from the exhaustion.


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter comes with a note.

Right, well, here's how this will work from now on. No (or not enough) reviews, no update. As for "enough", enough would be about seven for this chapter, because the next is important.

As for Hermione being a bit out of character in the first place (suggesting they should kiss), yes I kind of thought so too at first but then, the main reason she does it is to assure herself of Ron's sexuality, because as she mentions women are often drawn to homosexual men, and she does not want that to happen to her. And then, thanks very much for that review Rain, made me extremely happy. Cheers, enjoy this chapter. (Next one's already done too, and I gotta say, it's exciting.) Phil

They packed early in the morning and were gone before the sun had fully risen on the horizon. The clouds were hanging low, as if it would rain later, the early sunrise illuminating them with a glow of soft orange that turned into red at the ends. Harry Potter saw neither of it, because he was watching his two best friends dancing around each other. Had he not seen them glued together at the lips, he would not have noticed anything different this morning. There was a mere hint of the affection in their eyes and the ghost of their burning passion from the night before seemed not to have left their concentrated, exhausted features entirely.

Occasionally, Hermione glanced to her side where Ron was packing the rest of their belongings. At times he turned his head to her in a concerned expression, as if trying to reassure himself that she was still at his side. Each time he did, Harry felt the sidewards glance lash out and stab viciously at his heart. Over the past weeks he had not forgotten their shared kiss, the dance or even the small gesture of warming up his best friends' hands. Instead, the urge to throttle Hermione and take her place at Ron's side had become even more pressing after he had seen them kissing.

Ron's arm had healed almost fully, and Hermione suggested that they apparate again. They had long lost track of where they actually were, trusting that any eventually follower would have been shaken off by now. They had made it a habit to choose destinations randomly, and the patch of wood in which they appeared now was cold, with a barely audible bubbling sound in the air that made Hermione peer around anxiously for its source. Soon, she spotted a shallow river cheerfully splashing in a short distance and settled down with a weak smile.

„The sound will be additional concealment to our enchantments." she said contently, and with a look at Ron, „I hope there's fish in there."

Harry wondered when they were going to tell him that they had, quite obviously, finally made up and started snogging, or if they planned to keep doing it when his head was turned. They had not yet stopped pretending, and despite the icy, jagged knife that ran through his heart at the thought of them together, he wished that either of them would gather the courage to tell him the truth. Assuming and not knowing was making him feel worse than if they had straight up admitted that they had started dating.

„I can't sleep with that noise." Ron mumbled irritably. Harry knew that to be a blatant lie. He knew Ron had slept through worse in their nights in the shared dormitory.

„Well sorry I can't provide you with five stars." Hermione snapped. Despite her efforts to stay calm, it seemed that these days she was often on the verge to losing her temper with him.

Harry had thought that once they started dating they would finally stop their bickering, but had no such luck. He was unsure it had only started the night before, but after he had witnessed their shared moments, it seemed their behavior toward each other had become worse. He did not want to meddle with either at them if they were in a foul mood, so he distanced himself from the couple, his mind still occupied with the gurgling sound of the river. He had gotten away with quite a few of his supposedly innocent suggestions, holding hands, kissing. Only for a moment he contemplated asking if Ron wanted to sleep together maybe, just in a joined effort to block out the noise, of course. But he was kidding himself. There was no chance that after that previous night Ron would want to sleep beside anyone but Hermione.

„Are there fish in there?" Ron's voice said over his shoulder. Both of his friends had followed him down to the bank and were peering at the soft waves.

„Dunno." Harry replied, trying not to notice that he was mere inches behind him. A fresh breeze was carrying Ron's scent to his nose, strong and bitter, reminiscent of liquorice wands, but surprisingly gentle at the same time.

„Better than those bloody mushrooms." Ron scowled over his shoulder, no doubt at Hermione.

„Why don't you find us some food then?" Hermione snapped.

„That's not the point." Ron had flushed pink.

„Can you two hold it for a bit?" Harry's voice was harsher than he had intended it to be and he half feared they would turn against him in an instant. Several seconds of silence passed before Hermione snorted and walked back to the tent. Ron's mouth opened, and closed again, not unlike a fish on the dry, before he threw a guilty look at him and then followed her back to the campsite.

_Bloody Brilliant_, thought Harry who had hoped to have a few minutes alone with his best friends. He did not turn to watch Ron disappear in their shabby home, but listened closely to his fading footsteps. It felt as though he was fighting a long lost battle, stubbornly holding on to those few shared moments of, for the lack of a better word, affection, they had had. It could have been only a couple of weeks since their kiss in the Burrow's bathroom, and yet it seemed as if it had happened years ago.

All of the happiness he had felt at the wedding as they had danced seemed to have gone, and Harry realized that he wanted more of it. He had never been quite good at giving things up, never mind a person. Vaguely he remembered how long he had once fancied Cho Chang, and then Ginny. He was still struggling to let go off the latter, often in his darker moments still trying to convince himself that she was the right person for him, until Ron's wide smile appeared in front of him. The more he forced his thoughts off Ron again, the more persistent they flooded into his head.

He felt his chest for the locket, and felt the unmistakeable cold presence of it against his skin. No wonder his thoughts had been looming around dark and hopeless thoughts all morning. A slight drizzle hung in the air, and the clouds had grown considerably closer. Fingering the locket underneath his clothes, he sat down under a large tree and stared at the raindrops hitting the water. It was odly soothing, the sound and the slow circles that formed on the waves before they disappeared. His head dropped backward onto the bark, faces flashing before him.

There was Ginny, laughing, her arms around his neck and her warm breath tickling his skin. He was happy, happier than he had been in a while. He looked to his side where Hermione was dancing with Ron, their lips about to meet in a kiss but Harry turned away. His happiness had gone in an instant, and it was getting colder although Ginny held on tightly. He was freezing now, Ginny's arms around him like cold metal...

„Oi, don't sleep here, you'll get sick."

Harry's eyes snapped open and he grunted, his mind foggy with sleep. A red haired head swum into sight, and as his vision became clear he could see Ron's exhausted but curious features inches from his. Immediately, his heart jolted and sprang into his throat. He must have slipped away, it had only felt like seconds, but his fingers had become clam and his body was cold as ice. It had gone darker, which suggested that he had slept longer than an hour or two. His stomach rumbled loudly.

It was nearly dark, the drizzle had stopped and they were alone at the river bed. Normally it would not have disconcerted him, but suddenly he was strangely aware that they were alone for the first time in days. Suddenly, his heart was pounding as if he had run ten miles, and his gaze shifted sidewards to observe his best friend from the corner of his eyes.

Harry wanted to lean over him, place his fist on the bark over Ron's head, close the distance between them and taste him again. His other hand could be sneaking its way beneath the layers of clothes, sliding its way up Ron's chest, while he drew even closer. He imagined Ron would be slightly squeamish about it at first, but melt into his touch nonetheless.

Harry groaned silently to wake himself from this daydream. It was not right that he should be thinking about it while they were on the hunt for Horcruxes. There was no way to block those thoughts forever, but sitting there in the half-darkness... alone... Ron would surely notice the longing gaze with which he was looking at him. Despite the cold, his body was on fire.

„Your scar hurt?" Ron asked immediately.

„No, I'm just cold." he twitched, but suppressed an impulse to get out of reach as Ron stretched his fingers toward his face, feeling as though if he was touched now he would not be able to resist the impulse to kiss him.

„Blimey, Harry." Ron called out in alarm as his fingertips met Harry's cheek. „I don't really... you know. For something warm..." his face grew pink, „Hermione is better at spells."

„Don't worry about it." He wanted to lean into the touch, into Ron's warm hand. A bit more harshly than he had wanted, he pushed the hand off his cheek before his body decided to act on its own. The skin his best friend had touched seemed on fire, and the distinct strongly bittersweet scent clung to his face. When he looked up, Ron looked strangely taken aback.

„She's good, isn't she?" Ron mumbled fondly and his face grew, if possible, even more fiercely red. Harry tried for a reassuring sound, but it came out oddly strangled. „I mean her cooking not so much, but..."

Harry wanted to scream, but instead he bit his lower lip to stay silent. No doubt he would have attracted unwanted attention if he started to yell his head off like in his imagination. He would have to sit through praise Ron was giving Hermione. He almost had his wand out, pointing at himself and thinking _Muffliato_ with all his might. But Ron did not have the urge to linger on the subject.

Ron leaned closer, and whispered darkly, „She thinks you're a bit closed up lately. Completely mental, isn't it?" He was searching his face as though trying to find the traces of loneliness or sadness that Hermione had told him about. Harry's hand clenched into fists, trying to control his overflowing emotions as Ron's breath tickled his skin. He wanted to reach out, pull him onto his lap, kiss him, play with his hair in the back of his neck...

He tried to answer, but he could only growl in agreement, his throat restricted by a tight lump. His heart was beating loudly, couldn't Ron hear it? Perhaps that was why he was frowning so anxiously.

„It's just this, right? I mean being here, searching for pieces of You-Know-Who, yeah?" his voice was strained, as if he was trying not to plead.

„Yeah." Harry finally pressed out between grit teeth.

„So when we... should we get back alive, are you gonna..." Ron plopped back onto his backside, his features relaxed visibly, and leaned against the tree. He paused as if struggling with his next words, „You know... you and Ginny?" He looked at Harry expectantly, and Harry shrugged.

„I suppose." He highly doubted it, not with those feelings he was harboring for Ron. It was strange to even think about Ginny now, and how he would explain that he had fallen for her brother. He was almost sure that she was waiting for him to come back, although he had never said he would. As if it had become an unspoken rule that they would be together when the Dark Lord had fallen, only that he had, unwillingly, broken this rule.

„Oh." Ron said, flushing with red again, and for the tiniest moment meant to see a hint of anger and disappointment in his face. Maybe he had hoped that Harry would give up on his sister. As he looked closer, he decided that he had been wrong and that it must have been a trick of light.

They sat in deafening silence for a few minutes. „Yeah well..." was it his imagination, or was Ron's voice suddenly thick? „I think Hermione made some food." he grinned sheepishly at Harry, and Harry returned with an equally forced smile.

It had become difficult to smile lately. They were rooted on the spot, their plans shattered. The horcrux was a heavy weight for them to bear, and their euphoria about obtaining it had gone quickly as they realized they had no means of destroying it. Hermione's books had, for the first time, failed her, and it seemed that she was blaming herself for it. They were stranded in the cold, sleeping in a tent, barely able to keep up their personal hygiene because of the lack of water, their stomachs constantly empty and twisting painfully for food.

„Let's go then." Harry pushed himself onto his feet and, out of habit, held out a hand to pull up his best friend. It was almost dark now, and it could well be their only chance for something edible in hours. Harry was on guard duty that night, and he threatened it with an empty stomach.

Ron grabbed his hand and Harry pulled, and for a moment too long they walked with their fingers entwined. With some difficulty, he pulled his hand back. Ron's unreadable gaze was fixed on the tent. Harry's heart jumped loudly in his throat, he dared not to think about their lingering touch. Too soon they had climbed over the rocks that grazed the riverbed and reached the tent.

Hushed voices were talking in the back of the tent and Harry, sat at the entrance, pretended he could not hear them. It had been going for a while now, Hermione and Ron seemed to talk together behind his back, and often when he joined them they would change subject. He was almost sure that their topic was him, and the plan he did not have.

Mostly to block out the sound of their whispers, Harry produced his wand and tried to find a warming spell. It was pitch black in the forest with no stars visible through the thick layer of clouds, but the tiny drizzle had stopped. He gave up trying to warm the icy air around him as soon as the whispering stopped and he heard tentative, light footsteps behind him. Hermione joined him at the entrance and conjured two blankets out of thin air, one of which she gave Harry, the other she wrapped around herself. Then, she produced a glass out of her pocket in which a flame was flickering. Harry sunk into his blanket gratefully and warmed his hands on the flame.

Suddenly he was strangely aware that they were alone for the first time in weeks. He had gotten used to Ron being at her heel all the time...

„How are you feeling?" her tone was conversational, but Harry knew her too well to be fooled by it.

„Fine." Harry mumbled into the fleece.

„Are you sure you're not sick? You look a bit pale and peaky." her hand darted out from her blanket and she placed it on his forehead. The concern in her voice was strongly reminiscent of Mrs Weasley.

„Just tired, really." Harry said. He did not like to lie, but how could he have told Hermione the truth, knowing full well that she had what he desired?

„Well of course." he could tell by her tone that she was unconvinced.

Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, and Harry could not help but think he had never seen anyone look so genuinely scared for his health.

"So have you found anything new?" Harry asked as the silence stretched. Hermione shook her head, but he had expected her too. He wanted to continue talking, perhaps she had overlooked something in _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_, but before he had as much as opened his mouth, Hermione suddenly spoke.

"It's about Ron, isn't it?"

Harry froze and almost choked on his own spit but succeeded in passing it off as a cough. He had tried his best to hide his desire, not make it too obvious, had he not? How could she have so obviously looked right through him without being fooled by his act... He must have gone pale, because an odd look crossed her face as she observed him. And when he did not reply, she continued.

"You know, I'm not stupid."

He met her eyes with a frown, ready to voice his agreement, but she quickly waved him down.

"He's been so moody lately..." her voice dropped to a whisper and she threw a look over he shoulder as if expecting him to eavesdrop.

"I noticed." Harry took a deep breath. It seemed that she thought he had become more reserved perhaps because of their best friend's foul mood. Breathing had become easier again... He had no particular desire to discuss his feelings for Ron with his girlfriend...

"You'd think Viktor is here with us the way he looks."


	8. Chapter 8

Hello friends, and minions. Thank you for the reviews (I know I sorta Imperius'd you into leaving them in the first place). I guess I sorta lost it there, BUT this chapter is one of the most conflicting and exciting I've wrote, and I feel unwilling to post it on here if it's not appreciated, if you get my drift. As the following chapter will be equally, if not more (wink) interesting, I'd like some thoughts on this one first. Cheers, Phil.

Before Harry knew it, it was late Autumn and the beginning of Winter. He had not thought it possible, but it had grown even colder and rainstorms swiped over them every other night. They had to reinforce the tent's outside magically to secure it against the biting wind. He was not all that certain about a natural cause for this catastrophic weather and the drastic drop in temperature. His suspicion was confirmed at one point when he apparated, under his invisibility cloak, into a nearby village to gather food. Dementors had been lurking there, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had immediately left.

Harry made it a habit, that whenever it was his duty to sit sentinel in front of their tent, to find a place as dry and as far away from the tent as possible. Rain and falling leaves had made the ground a muddy, swamp-like surface that froze overnight and had to be melted by magic to recover the tent. He did not investigate into the smacking, slapping, wet sounds that came from inside anymore, having no desire whatsoever to eavesdrop or surprise his best friends doing whatever they did in the darkness of their shabby home.

He did not want to think about it too much, but whenever he closed his eyes he saw them connected at the lips, wrapped around each other as if their life depended on it. It was strongly reminiscent of their sixth year, only then Hermione had hardly spoken to Ron because it had been Lavender whose throat he stuck down his tongue. Harry did not dare to think what would happen to his two best friends if _he_ asked Ron out. He wanted to lose neither of them, but it seemed almost inevitably that he should lose either if he so much as mentioned his feelings to them. Perhaps it was good that Ron and Hermione seemed to be friendlier than ever, and that the possibility of Ron falling for him was next to nothing.

Yet, and he dared not to think about it too hopefully, there had been... incidents. Incidents when they would repeat their endless discussions about the Horcruxes and Ron's eyes would meet his, lingering just a second too long. When they were alone, Ron often opened his mouth as if to say something, and closed it again, deciding his words were better unsaid. Harry could not forget the way Ron's eyebrows twisted and his pupils widened as if he was afraid of something. Then, at one time when Harry sat turning the locket in his hands restlessly, Ron had come up behind him, his hands finding their way up his shoulders where he let them linger, his thumb circling tentatively as though trying to relieve the tension.

They had never spoken about those incidents, but Harry could not help wondering, hoping...

Harry awoke in the middle of the night from the cold biting into the exposed skin on his cheeks and nose. Despite the low temperature, he was covered in sweat. He tried to remember what he had been dreaming, and if it had been another nightmare about Voldemort. He vaguely remembered that Ron had been there, as usual, and they were kissing, touching each other. Ron shifted in the bed underneath him, and the curious last part of his dream came back to Harry... just before he woke up, he had been running with a herd of thestrals... their hooves clattering on the ground...

"Ron?" he poked his head out of his bunk bed and peered over the edge. An unmistakeable sound of clattering teeth had filled the tent. In the thinnest ray of blueish moonlight that filtered through the gap at the entrance, without his glasses, Harry could just about make out the outlines of the figure beneath him. Ron was curled up in his blankets, trying to breathe into his pillow so the warm air warmed his nose. Quickly, Harry peered over to Hermione's empty bunk bed, reassuring himself that she was sitting guard and would not notice them.

"It's bloody cold, isn't it?" Ron whispered back with a desperate smile, his voice shivering.

Harry swallowed. He could not ask Ron to join him in his bed, could he?

"Could always come up here with me if you want. You know, share the blankets." he said before he could change his mind. The clattering of teeth stopped and Harry thought that he had, at last, gone too far. Ron would shout at him for being a disgusting pervert any second now. He waited, but the scolding never came. Had Ron fallen asleep?

„But we're both... you know... blokes." Ron said quietly, sounding almost regretful.

"Maybe Hermione can help then." Harry tried to supress the disappointment trying to sneak into his voice „I'll call her if you want."

"No, don't." Ron replied quickly. His breath was heaving as though he had just run several miles.

"I'll keep my hands with me?" Harry said after a moment's silence. He thought he had succeeded him making it sound as sarcastic as ever, but yet inviting.

"You're serious?" Ron whispered and again his teeth clattered together. The sound almost made Harry wince.

"Yeah." he said reassuringly, but could not quite ban the hopeful note.

"Guess it can't hurt, can it..." Ron mumbled and his head appeared before him. Unceremoniously, he threw his blanket over Harry's and hoisted himself onto the edge of the bed. It took a moment until Harry's brain was ready to register what was happening. He pinched himself carefully under the blanket, but he was not dreaming.

„Make space." Ron demanded. Hastily, Harry shuffled toward the fabric of the tent. Perhaps Ron, who was used to having older brothers, had shared with them in cold nights before. There was nothing to worry about, was there? It was not like Ron had come to his bed to snog or snuggle...

"Oh yeah, this is warm." he purred once he had settled down. Harry did not know where to put his hands. Ron's back was facing toward him, and the narrow bed left him with no space to tuck his hands without touching him. He shuffled backward carefully, tucking his arms in front of him, trying his hardest not to graze Ron. It was extremely uncomfortable and Harry found this tense and stiff position impossible to sleep in.

"Do you have enough space?" he could not quite ban the irritation from his voice.

"Yeah than... blimey, Harry, I'm sorry." he shuffled forward quickly and Harry meant to see his face glowing red. Tentatively, he shuffled closer in turn and draped one arm over Ron's waist, the latter swallowing audibly.

Harry's fingers felt as though they were on fire. His fingertips were prickling in appreciation and goose skin had built on his arms and legs. Somewhere below, there was another pair of feet brushing against his as Ron curled up in his arms. Unobtrusively, he shifted closer and took a deep breath of acrimonious liquorice and settled back contently again. It couldn't be much short of heaven, Harry grinned stupidly at his best friends back, unable to suppress the sudden euphoria. Perhaps because of Ron snuggled against him, perhaps because Hermione was wearing the Horcrux, Harry Potter felt highly elated and quickly fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

A good night's sleep later, Harry opened his eyes in the early rays of the rising sun. For the first time in weeks, he was warm through and through. Something large and warm was pressed against him, and under his fingertips he felt soft skin. Immediately, his eyes fell onto the figure of his best friend snuggled into his chest. His neck was exposed, the pale skin luring Harry in, inviting him to place the tiniest kiss onto it. He suppressed the urge, for he was sure that it would have been too much after having already spent the night in one bed together. Their lower legs were entwined affectionately, and before he know it, he was unconsciously rubbing his foot against Ron's.

With a start, he realized that it was already light outside, way past the point of apparating in semi-darkness. Why had Hermione not woken them? Harry's throat felt strangely dry as he shifted his gaze toward the entrance. Had she been attacked? He considered that maybe she had fallen asleep outside, and in case, he decided that it was perhaps best to go and see.

Soundly, he attempted to remove his arm from Ron's waist, and in the shuffling became painfully aware that something was straining against his pajama bottoms. Harry's heart skipped a beat and he froze, daring not to look down. He did not need to. His raging hard on that was pressed firmly against the slit between Ron's buttocks. Horrified, Harry shuffled backward and almost fell out of his bunk bed on the other side.

If Ron had noticed, he was polite enough not to mention it, or still asleep. Harry pleaded with a higher instance above that it was the later. He had no desire to try and explain to his best friend why he was hard, and he doubted that morning wood was a good enough excuse. Not now that Ron's scent clung to him and it was impossible to rid himself of those thoughts what they could do instead of sleeping. Silently, and with his heart hammering against his chest, he proceeded to climb over Ron and slid out of the bed.

Muttering curses under his breath, and with great difficulty, he changed into his trousers, all the while thinking about his aunt Marge in the shower. It worked only so much, and each time he gazed up to his bunk bed where Ron was still snoring, he could not help the corners of his lips twitching. The jealous beast inside of him seemed to hum contently, and something he imagined being a million of pink, light bubbles was blubbering cheerfully inside of him. As soon as he had fully dressed, he took his glasses from the bedside table and approached the light-flooded entrance of the tent.

Hermione did not look up as he stepped outside, fumbling with his glasses as he put them onto his nose. A look at his watch told him that it was past the time she had promised to wake them. His good mood was immediately dimmed, and a frown distorted his eyebrows. Had she seen them sleeping together, cuddling? The thought sent cool shivers down his spine. She would not take it well, him spooning her boyfriend... He tried to calm his nerves. Maybe she just had not noticed him yet, maybe she was asleep. Harry cleared his throat.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Hermione's voice was higher than usual and Harry's hopes that she had not seen them crumbled like a card-house.

"Err.. yeah." he mumbled.

"Good." she said, but he could hear clearly that she did not mean it. Her fingers cramped around her wand so that her knuckles stood out in a ghostly white. She kept her gaze fixed upon the leafs in front of her shoes.

"About that, Hermione, it's nothing we just... it was co..." he started.

"Nothing?" she had jolted upward and one, accusing finger pointed at his chest, her voice hoarse as if she suppressed the urge to scream "You call that nothing?"

"We only... it was cold..." he said silently.

"Was it now?" each word was heavy with sarcasm, and dripping with venom, "I knew it had something to do with Ron, but... _that_... Not in my wildest dreams I would have imagined something like _this_ being the reason for your shutting us out. I thought maybe you were having nightmares about You-Know-Who again, or that you were preoccupied by the rumors about Dumbledore! And to think that I didn't realize it until now!"

Harry wanted to argue, but as he opened his mouth, no words came out. It was too late to deny it now anyhow. He closed his mouth again. Hermione regarded him with a sharp look as though daring him to interrupt her rant now.

"Don't you dare." she snapped, closing in on him, her finger held in front of her like a weapon. Alarmed, Harry took a step back. "I'm your best friend!"

Harry sighed with relief at the present tense, but Hermione's head jerked and her brown eyes filled with disgust.

"So how long has this been going on? Since when have you known? Have you snogged him already? I can't believe this! All the time you've been doing it right in front of my eyes and I did not realize it." she seemed more agitated by the fact that she had missed something as crucial than that it had actually happened. "Oh I should have recognized that the look you had when you watched him. How stupid was I, not to notice!"

"I'm sorry..." Harry mumbled but he was sure she could not hear him. He wanted to argue that she was probably the smartest person he ever met, but one look at her furious features was enough to silence him at once. She was was pacing up and down in front of him now.

"By Merlin, what will Ginny say? And Ron's mum? Have you ever thought about their feelings? You've already put them through so much, their whole family is in danger already because they are friends with you." she clasped her hand over her mouth, shocked about what had slipped in her fury.

A dull feeling had emerged inside of him, and tears were pressing against the back of his eyeball. His voice was hoarse as he spoke.

"Don't you think I know that?" he said silently. He was not so much hurt as disappointed by the way she dragged open old wounds. Part of him could understand, because he still had great difficulty accepting that Ginny would, at some point, find another boyfriend... Part of him wanted to run, never stop running because of the violence with which her words had gripped his heart and were clenching around it forcefully.

"Harry... I didn't mean... I'm so sorry." her eyes were wide open in shock.

At the same moment, the fabric of the tent flapped again and Ron came outside beaming. As soon as his gaze came onto his two best friends, standing a short way from each other, one shocked to the point of frantic, the other with his eyes to the ground with an unreadable expression, his face fell.

"What's going on?" he asked, his eyes jumping from Harry to Hermione and back.

Hermione's cheeks flushed with colour and she winced, turning sidewards to hide her face. Ron's eyebrows pulled upward in desperation, but the corners of his lips were twitching almost comically as he met Harry's gaze. Despite his painfully aching heart, Harry was drawn in by his clear blues eyes that showed nothing but confusion. He focused his gaze on the ground and pushed past his best friends into the tent. Fragments of conversation flooded his ears at once.

"Hermione... what's wrong?" the words were tentative, almost scared.

"Nothing." the response was a hiss.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

There was a pause.

"It's none of your business!" footsteps became audible, someone was skipping away in the heaps of fallen leaves.

"Bloody well is!" another pair of footsteps rustled.

"Stop following me!"

Harry grabbed for his pillow and pressed it against his ears to muffle the voices of his best friends. He had hoped that he could just pretend this latest of their affectionate incidents had been a result merely of the cold, but if Hermione told him about her suspicions... He had never admitted his feelings to her, but she had drawn her own conclusions before he could try to deny them. He wanted to punish himself, hit his head against the bedpost for being so stupidly obvious. His emotions had betrayed himself and he dared not to think what would happen next. He would not last a day on his own, so much was clear. Hermione and Ron had been his best friends for years, so why had he not swallowed his hopeless feelings instead of acting on them? Did he not value them as friends? A scent of liquorice flooded his nostrils, and despite his best attempts, thick drops began pouring down his cheeks.

He wanted more than that, at least from Ron. But if he had interpreted his two best friends' encounters in the previous nights correctly, then it was impossible because they already had each other. Suddenly he felt oddly left out, let down not only by himself. What had Ron been doing, willingly climbing into bed with him instead of seeking warmth by his girlfriend's side? Did he not consider Harry's feelings at all, or worse, did he rejoice in confusing them? Harry disregarded this thought, it was more likely that Ron had not stopped to think of the consequences.

In the afternoon, they apparated to a riverbank in Wales. Neither of them spoke and they quickly went their own ways after they had built up the tent and said their protective enchantments. Harry spent most of the afternoon and evening sitting on the riverbank and staring blankly at the waves. If only he could switch place with someone who did not lust after his best friend. It had merely been a kiss, Merlin's beard. How easy would it have been if he just could have continued loving Ginny. He dared not to think what she would say once she learned that he preferred to date a man. And not just any man, her _brother_ of all people.

He should not be concerned by those thoughts really. In matter of fact, he should not be worried about any of it. Chances were good that he would not live to see another year, considering his plans for the next few months. It would be best if he simply forgot it all. For the same reason he had broke up with Ginny in the first place, to keep them out of harm's way. Neither of his best friends tried to make contact with him until it was time for dinner, but he preferred it what way.

They had their dinner in deafening silence, either of them lost in their own thoughts. It was reminiscent of the Dursleys, where no one spoke at joined meals in fear that Harry would join the conversation. This evening, it consisted of something that looked like cod, but Harry supposed was not. He could tell Hermione had made and effort, the fish was marinated with an assortment of different herbs and few ornate mushrooms bits grazed the edge of their plates. It tasted of stale nothing, but Harry forced it down because Hermione's eyes were red and puffy, and he had already brought her enough pain.

It took only so long until Ron, who was wearing the Horcrux, lashed out at her. They quarreled until Harry made them aware of voices nearby. For minutes, they listened to the clatter of dinner plates, and conversation of several familiar and unfamiliar figures. As soon as the voices had faded, they begun to discuss what they had overheard and at last the reason for Dumbledore's leaving him the sword of Godric Gryffindor was lifted.

Only after minutes, Harry noticed that Ron had become oddly quiet throughout their talk. He turned around quickly to see his best friend staring at them darkly, his lips pressed together in a tight slit, his blue eyes dangerously hazy with fury.

"What do you think?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh have you noticed I'm still here?" Ron sounded deliberately casual, but Harry did not miss the hint of biting sarcasm that he had failed to suppress.

"What's wrong?" Harry turned around fully. A numb feeling was spreading inside of his head at the sight of Ron's angry, distorted features. Ron did not answer immediately, his eyes rolling almost madly as they jumped between his best friends.

"What's wrong is you... and her!"

Hermione opened her mouth but Ron waved her down.

"What do you mean?" to Harry's humiliation, his voice was thick with bewilderment.

"Don't!" Hermione shrieked, but neither of them paid her any notice.

"You... all shacked up together..." he struggled with words and went silent. Instead, he jumped from his chair, his eyes piercing into Harry's.

"You could have said something you know!" Harry jumped from his seat as well.

Hermione gasped, her hands reaching out for either of them desperately. "Stop!" she shrieked, a hint of hysteria in her voice. Harry ignored her.

"Keep out of it." Ron hissed. "It has nothing to do with you."

Hermione froze on the spot, and her features turned expressionless. It went unnoticed by the two young men who were still staring at each other with a mad, angry glint in their eyes. As she spoke, however, both of them turned their head in her direction. Her voice was a almost menacingly measured and cold.

"You know what? _You_ sort this out together!" Her eyes sprayed fire as she regarded each of them with a heated glare before she retreated to the entrance. Harry and Ron watched her furiously turn on the spot and storm out of the tent.

„What is your problem?" Harry turned back.

"You are my problem!" he paused. His fingers had found the gold chain that hung across his neck and he began turning it in his hands. His expression grew almost pained as he spoke again. "It's not fair, you snogging my bloody sister right under my nose!" he yelled. "And then you go left her and I thought..."

"You snogged Hermione!" Harry interrupted loudly and suddenly Ron looked strangely taken aback. His jaw dropped. It was obvious that he had not expected Harry to know about it, had not expected this as a comeback to his accusations. White hot heat had filled Harry's mind, and something angry and burning was splashing around in his stomach. He was almost sure it was not the cod.

Ron's face flushed scarlet. „So you _do_ like her!"

"I don't!" Harry recoiled, „At least not in that way." he added hastily, but Ron was not listening. He had begun searching the tent with his eyes and was picking up items here and there. He grabbed his bag from the ground and his golden watch, his wand, and his deluminator disappeared inside it. His features were twisted with fury as he turned to face Harry again.

"Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I don't see you sticking together? Laughing without me? Laughing about me? It's only stupid, idiot Ron who'll never be loved by anyone, who will always stay alone because he can't stop thinking about his best friend!" he screamed the last part in a mock voice that sounded horribly like Hermione.

"If you feel so misunderstood, what was all that snogging about when I wasn't there?" Harry shouted back. Ron did not respond as he continued grabbing for his belongings and stuffing them into his bag. Something was odd. Harry's brain raced, he was grabbing at an incredible idea at the edges of his mind. When Ron had said _best friend_, could he have meant... _him_? Could there be a reason other than protectiveness and jealousy for his reaction to Harry and either of the two women? He dared not to move, in case something would happen to shatter his state of blissful hope

Petrified, Harry watched as Ron fumbled with the chain on his neck. His hands were shaking and only after moments he succeeded to loosened it from his neck and threw it on the ground at Harry's feet. He tried to move his lips, say something, anything, but the muscles in his jaw would not obey the command.

"You know what, I don't care." he spat, „Do whatever you like with her."

As he looked up, his eyes were an unreadable blue blur in front of him, the corners of his mouth twitching dangerously as he gazed back onto the ground. Someone screamed in Harry's head, urging him to close the distance between them, to reach out and pull Ron into his arms. A breeze of bittersweet liquorice passed him by as Ron pushed past him. Too late, Harry regained control of his movements. He could the fading voice of Hermione in his back, pleading.

"We promised we would stay..." her voice was barely more than a sob. He did not want to know whether he would lose two of his best friends... "Please, come back Ron! Please! No... no..."

Seconds later, a loud crack became audible and Hermione's head appeared at the entrance of the tent. Tears were streaming down her face and and her red eyes jumped between the locket on the ground and Harry. Harry's heart twisted painfully at the sight.

"He's gone." she sobbed.

_Is he sniffing me_, Ron froze in Harry's arms, _What a creeper_.

I kinda imagined Ron thinking that as they cuddle up... Cheers, Phil


	9. Chapter 9

Hi! I'm very sorry this took so long, it's just I'm incredibly busy at the moment. Now this isn't beta'd, so please overlook the boggled sentences! I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer, and I might go back and update this to proper standards in the next few days. Well, enjoy, and reviews are greatly appreciated!

Harry spent most of the following weeks alone. He was glad that they were only two now, because that meant he didn't have to talk to Hermione. When she was on guard duty, he sticked to the inside of the tent and stared at the ceiling, feigning sleep. Eventually, when it came to his turn, Hermione woke him up and they separated again.

He didn't know what to tell her. How to explain what had happened, or how Ron had reacted to him. He didn't want to, either. Hermione would insist on analyzing Ron's behavior toward both of them, and then they would probably fight again- or worse- stop being friends with each other. Jealousy tended to do that. There was also a slight chance that he and Hermione would make up, because Ron had already decided by snogging her after all.

At some point, Harry had realiszd that there was another option. That was that he would become friends with Hermione again, and then they would unite against Ron. They had already antagonized him, and both of them spent their days not speaking to each other and sulking. Harry preferred to call it thinking, because it seemed less like he was an egoistical prat. He knew that they needed Ron if they wanted to succeed in their task. Or Hermione did, she hardly spent the days doing anything but crying.

And then, Harry had thought that it was Ron who he should be furious at. Hermione hadn't done anything wrong. She had made sure that Ron really liked her, and it wasn't just some sort of friendship attraction thing. Ron had been the one misleading her, when it was obvious that he had feelings for Harry. (If Harry wasn't completely stupid and had read more into that outburst than there was)

So why did he go around snogging her, if he wanted Harry, really? Suddenly, Harry had felt a great surge of anger about his supposedly best friend. He had been misleading them both, hadn't been honest. In all his anger, he realized that although Ron might have felt something for him at one point and that made him hopeful, it was over now that he had shouted at him.

Harry had then felt bad. He needed to apologize to her, because Ron had chosen her in the first place. He was the one butting in, he was the one who had to leave and let them get on with their feelings.

Harry was so lost in thought that he did not even notice Hermione joining him on guard duty. When he did, they sat in silence for a while, in which he tried to figure out why should would give up her few hours of sleep to sit with someone who didn't talk to her. From the corners of his eyes, he observed the smart witch staring down toward the lake where they had set up camp for the night. If he had to guess, it was nearly Christmas, and a look at Hermione confirmed this.

Despite her efforts to charm her eyes and face back to normal, the traces of puffy eyes and swollen cheeks were still visible on her features. Harry was glad that she was not crying at the moment. He had never been good with crying girls, and he wasn't sure what he would tell her.

"Everything will be fine" wasn't quite appropriate, considering the way Ron had reacted before he left. Considering that Ron might be feeling something for him as well. While the thought made him giddy, and the butterflies flap through his stomach, he couldn't suppress the nagging guilt that ate away at his insides.

The awkward silence was stretching, his blood rushing loudly through his head.

"I can't compete with you." they said at the same time.

Harry gawked. Hermione stared.

"What?" they said. Harry could see the corners of her lips twitching upward, and he found himself unable to suppress a quick smile either. After a moment's silence, in which they regarded each other affectionately, Hermione sighed loudly.

"You go first." she said.

"No you do, really. It's better that way." Harry replied. Hermione sighed again.

"Okay." she began, "I really don't know what to say, though. I mean, I've... I've known from the beginning that he... liked you."

"What?!"

"I saw him looking at you. And at some point, he sort of said that he enjoyed the dance, and that you were a good kisser, that he would kiss you again, if you let him." she said in a quiet voice, "At first I thought that, well it's just that. That he likes to experiment." her hands rose over her head and she looked miserable, "I specifically asked if you were, you know. I thought that perhaps he was joking... I didn't know that you... you know... that you fancy him as well."

"So why did you snog him then?" his voice was raising, and he grit his teeth so he wouldn't start shouting again. Hermione had known that Ron fancied him? And she hadn't told him? And she had snogged him? Merlin's beard!

"I didn't realize until it was too late!" nervously, she twirled strands of her hair in her fingers, "We'd already done... stuff. But he kept looking at you. And at one time it slipped."

"What did?" Harry couldn't believe this.

"That he likes you." Hermione groaned and closed her eyes as if the thought was giving her nightmares, "But he said it wasn't going to happen, and that he... that he wasn't sure what he felt about me, but that he liked me a lot." her expression changed to something vile, "Merlin, I could hit myself for being so stupid! I was hoping that eventually he would get over you if you don't respond to his feelings, and that it was just, you know, a teenage crush. I've read that it's possible that..."

"Hermione." Harry groaned. The least thing he needed now was along explanation about bi-curious teenagers.

"Right, right. Sorry... I thought he would get over it. You know how he's been snogging Lavender all of last year?"

"How could I forget." Harry hadn't, his heart still clenched when he thought about what she had had, what he could have had. But then he reminded himself that he only just fancied Ron since that kiss Hermione had prompted. Well. Apparently the plan had backfired on her.

"So I thought it was just like that. That he would, you know, stop thinking about you that way."

It wasn't unreasonable, Harry had to admit. It made sense, because Ron often started something and then dropped it again quickly. He was still furious with Hermione, because she could have told him, could have not-snogged him, or something, but he saw her point now.

"Since when?" Harry hoped she understood what he was asking.

"That kiss." it was her turn to groan, "It all started with that bloody kiss!"

"Me too." Harry said. He couldn't really make this better for either of them. He couldn't just forget those feelings for Ron either, but maybe, for her sake, he wouldn't act on them. Perhaps it was good that Ron was gone after all. It saved them a lot of awkwardness.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know you fancied him as well. I really thought you were being... private... because of Ginny."

"It's no big deal." said Harry.

"Of course it is!" Hermione jumped onto her feet, "How can you say it's not! Don't you realize this all started with that? Like me, seeing Ron, because I thought he was confused and needed me. Turns out he did, but not for the snogging." she dropped back down. "Maybe if I'd realized sooner I could have..."

"So you're saying you're not interested in Ron? At all?"

"Oh I am." said Hermione and graced him with a sad smile, "But I can't, and don't want to compete with you."

"Nonsense." Harry said, angry now. He had survived much worse, it wouldn't kill him to let his best friends get together. He would probably have to hide somewhere, somewhere far away, for the rest of his life, but if anyone deserved love, it was Hermione. "I can't compete with you. You're smart, and brainy, and clever, and... you know... beautiful." he forced out the words that would ultimately destroy what he had hoped for for the last few months, "And Ron loves you."

Hermione snorted. "No he doesn't. It's good that you say it, because I haven't yet thought about that. Well I have but... I tried to avoid thinking about the suspicious parts."

"I can't believe this." said Harry.

"Me neither. How can boys be so stupid?... No offense, Harry."

"Thanks." said Harry.

At least, after that, everything went back to normal. Harry and Hermione began speaking again, and most of the times politely avoided the topic that was Ron in favor of their newfound friendship. Harry still wasn't sure what was worse, the pretending Ron didn't exist, or the fact that whenever they would see him again, all hell would break lose again.

It was close to Christmas, and despite his anger about being treated unfairly by both of his best friends, he wished that both of them were there. So did Hermione, she continued spending most of her days avoiding him, and the rest trying not to speak about Ron or the Horcruxes. Only until one night, when they came to the conclusion that they had to go to Godric's Hollow.

Harry was both afraid and glad to go back to where he and his parents had, for one year, lived happily. Afraid because he had never even attempted to imagine what it would be like, or what it would look like, or how would it feel being back where his parents had died, seeing their shattered home.. Glad because, at last, it felt as if he was returning home.

And suddenly the wish for Ron to be there became stronger, but he suppressed it. Ron had done both him and Hermione wrong, and he should not be mourning him when he had left out of his own free will. He ignored the thought that the Horcrux they are currently carrying had influenced Ron the most.

And once they arrived, he wished they had never decided to go there. It was Christmas eve, and the carols coming from the local church tingled softly in his ears as he walked with Hermione through the graveyard, searching for his parents' graves.

It was romantic. Too romantic than he could handle. Snuggled to his side, warming him against the cold of the winter night, he was sharing the little warmth they had with Hermione. It made him more sentimental than he had intended to be, and he was spared the tears only when a hunched figure came around the corner.

In hindsight, Harry knew that he should have listened to that sudden instinctive impulse of impending danger. Yet, he didn't. He was already close to tears, and whom he assumed to be Bathilda Bagshot seemed not very harmful at all. He even cursed his overly sensitive senses, because, evidently, there was nothing vicious coming from the small woman.

Until she turned into a giant snake in her attic and they only barely got out alive. Harry didn't want to think about this too much, because although he was a boy, he had been more than disturbed by the slick, scaled head forcing it's way out of a hole in Bathilda. He was glad he had spared Hermione those details, unsure how she would take them. And really, there was no need to scare her even more.

Harry twirled the wand in his fingers. It wasn't his. His had been broken that night in Bathilda's house. While it worked, it worked poorly for him. It was as if the wand didn't like his hand at all, and he had to try every spell twice before it succeeded. He had the slightest feeling that perhaps the wand could sense that he wasn't as clever or composed as Hermione.

"I'm intelligent enough!" he told it when, again, he failed to conjur a small fire to warm his fingers. The wand responded with a shower of angry, red sparks and would not cease them until he stuffed it back into his pocket.

If only Ron was here, he wouldn't be limited to talking to his wand. After their latest hazardous adventure, his relationship to Hermione had considerably bettered, but there were things Harry did not want to share with her.

Like the way he had wished it was Ron he had shared looking up at the light filled church and listening to the Christmas carols while the snow fell around them. The way he had thought he would do anything to change Hermione for Ron that moment, despite his betrayal. The way heart began to ache whenever he thought about his best friend.

And then suddenly, there was a light a short way away, right inside the forest they were camping at for the night. It was outside of their boundaries, but it was there, almost as if it knew about his presence. As he looked closer, he realized that it was the silvery form of a doe. A majestic, beautiful animal that looked upon him with wise, calming eyes.

It should have been more suspicious, and more alarming than the old woman at the graveyard, but when Harry felt inside him, there was nothing but a kind glow inside of him. Something that urged him onto his feet and toward the barriers they had drawn between them and the outside world.

Harry had to follow this doe. He looked around the forest, but couldn't see the caster. Only for the teensiest second he dared to visualize his mother stepping forward out of the Doe's ghostly body. Quickly, he shook his head. It was impossible, she had been dead for a long time... but the Doe kept watching, kept asking him to follow her with her eyes.

He listened into the tent, not taking his eyes off the silver light. There were no sounds from inside, and the Doe was now turning. He couldn't let it get away. Crashing through the trees, breaking twigs and leaving an obvious tail, he ran after the patronus as it strode onward, never so much as grazing a tree on its way. It was gracious, very much unlike Harry himself. He felt more like an elephant trying not to break china, in a china store. Even though it was a childish thought, he felt that he had to, because otherwise he would disgrace her with his clumsiness.

The doe stopped in front of a small, frozen river. Something was shining beneath it's surface, and as soon as Harry realized what it was, he began to strip while the doe stood sentinel. It didn't matter so much anymore who had cast it, and even if it was his own mother, Harry's thoughts were occupied with the shining object laying beneath a layer of icy cold water.

Harry was still wearing the Horcrux, but did not dare to take it off. They couldn't afford losing it again. This was a mistake he realized as soon as he was submerged and the thing tried to drown him. He wanted to scream, but no sound left his lips as he struggled both with the devious item and an impending darkness that threatened to take over his mind.

And then, something warm touched him. The air outside was almost colder than the water, burning icily on his abused skin as he groped around for his glasses. Something landed beside him with a thud, and the edge of something shiny came into his vision.

Harry found his glasses a moment later.

They stared at each other, the only sound the quiet dripping of water onto the forest ground. Harry didn't know what to say. He had half a mind to hug his best friend, while the other part told him to yell at him for deserting them. And then there was one part that informed him how gorgeous Ron looked with his flaming red hair dripping wet, his face distorted into a grimace of pain, and yet smiling tentatively.

And then, before Harry knew it, that part had won and he pulled his best friend closer, closer.. until he could feel his breath warming his cheeks, his slippery fingers trying to find a hold on Harry's shoulders, his wet hair tangling into his face. Closer yet again, until their lips were inches apart, so that Harry could feel Ron's soft trembling.

Before Ron could as much as gasp in surprise, Harry had grabbed his face, brushing sticking, wet strands out of it.

"Ron.." he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"H-Harry..." Ron's voice was quivering, "I don't think this is a good..."

"Shut up." replied Harry.

"B-But..."

"Just tell me one thing." Harry hesitated for a moment, looking into Ron's eyes. This was it, the moment that was unavoidable but yet painfully important. He was scared to know, but he had to know. He had to know now. "Do you love Hermione?"

Ron swallowed, and Harry's heart went into an overdrive that had nothing to do with the biting cold. And then, after several nerve wracking seconds, Ron shook his heart.

"No." his voice was stronger now, secure and serious.

"Do you love me?" Harry pushed. It was this thing that could ruin it all, but now was the time. If this was the only chance he would get, he had to use it. Even if it pushed them further apart, he had to know.

"You." Ron made a strangled sound. He blushed to the root of his hair, and Harry could see it even in the darkness on the clearing.

"Then say it."

"Say what?"

"You know what."

Ron chewed his lips.

"I love you." he said. "I'm sorry, I was stupid." he looked it. His eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, and something was glistening in his eyes, "I was so stupid. I thought that, me and 'Mione, but it didn't... I didn't feel anything. I know she loves... loved me, but I don't love her, and I couldn't... she would have been devastated." his fingers found Harry's shoulders where they held on, "And I love you. I can't... Ever since that kiss. I can't stop thinking about that kiss. I kept wanting to repeat it. I, me and Hermione, it wasn't the same. And then I thought, you and Ginny. And I thought it wasn't anything to you." he fell silent.

"Do it then." said Harry. This time, he wouldn't be the one to make the first step. Anyone could talk, and if Ron was serious, he wanted to know it now and for all. Ron chewed his lip again, and Harry couldn't help his lips twitching.

"I-I wanted to say that I know it all now." said Ron, "You know, not in a way like 'Mione, or anything. But I get it now. I talked to B-Bill and he..."

The rest of the sentence was lost as Ron crushed their lips together. He had squeezed his eyes shut and seemed anxious to hide his face even now that their lips were connected. Anything but having Harry stare at him intensely to catch every word he said.

The kiss lasted for mere seconds, but it was just like Harry remembered. It filled him with fuzzy warmth, something he had not felt in a long time, or never. It was still sad to admit, but what he felt could not even be compared with Ginny.

He broke the kiss when he felt them getting colder. Ron's skin was like ice, and Harry felt chilled to the bone.

"Let's get back to the tent." he said, and using his mouth for speaking felt awkward.

Ron's eyes immediately lightened up as if he had been scared that Harry would deny him to come back after all. "Let's."

The evening couldn't have been better, Harry thought when Ron handed him the shiny object he had seen in the lake. At last, the sword of Gryffindor was theirs. Despite Ron's protest, he destroyed the locket himself. He blushed even redder as he gathered the shards of what had previously displayed his jealousy about Harry and Hermione and dropped them into Harry's purse.

As they walked back to the tent, Harry took his hand in his. For the first time in months, Harry felt content.


	10. Chapter 10

Hi there. After a long time, another update. I was about to lose hope that anyone (still) likes this, but then I got another review and thought I'd upload the next chapter. It is a bit short, but I hope you'll enjoy all the fluff! Phil

There weren't many things Harry Potter was sure about. He wasn't sure what he was aiming for in life, if he would be allowed his continued existence after facing Voldemort, or what his next few weeks would contain. In fact, Harry couldn't even tell if he would be alive the next day, considering that he was desired by most of Britain's wizarding population, and not always for peaceful negotiations. He didn't want to think about the other reason they wanted him.

Harry turned around in his slim bunk bed and immediately bumped into something warm. Someone warm. Another body lying next to his.

Harry snaked his arm around a broad, if toned chest and pulled carefully until Ron was pressed against him tightly.

There were two things, though, that he was sure about, and one that he thought he had been sure about for the longest of times.

The first was Ron Weasley, and the second Quidditch. And then there was Ron's younger sister, Ginny.

Hermione had looked dumbstruck, her eyes red and puffy as they had come back from the lake from which they had retrieved the sword of Gryffindor. Each of their steps had made a loud splash, their clothes had clung to their skin and they were drenched from head to toe. The thing that had caught her eye before anything else, however, was their entwined hands.

At some point, Ron had gone scarlet and mumbled an excuse to go to bed, but Harry had stayed. They had sat there for ten minutes, silently, and he had been waiting for Hermione to explode. It had felt as though it was the silence before a giantic storm, and despite the nagging fear bubbling in his stomach, he had waited for judgment day. When Hermione had opened her mouth at last, it was calm, if a little forced.

„Good for you." she had said.

It was the only ever time they mentioned anything that went on between Ron and him, and he prefered it that way. He didn't exactly know what it was himself, yet. They hadn't spoken about it either. Where they in a relationship now?

And most importantly, if they were, what would Ginny say?

Would they have to keep it quiet? Pretend they were best friends? Ron had always warned him not to break Ginny's heart, but that was exactly what he was doing now. It was Ron's own fault, Harry mused.

Harry sighed quietly against Ron's neck and inhaled his sharp scent deeply. It was uncomfortable to sleep on the narrow beds on one's own, but two people in one bunk bordered on sheer madness. Neither of them minded, and although Harry hadn't gotten much sleep, that after nearly being drowned by a necklace, and reuniting with his best friend, now perhaps boyfriend, their shared kiss, those butterflies swarming in his belly..

And suddenly, things became even more real. Harry blinked in shock, as if he had just been woken by a bucket full of cold water. Being in a relationship meant... meant... things. Things, and feelings, which Harry had been able to suppress successfully for quite a while, although they often manifested themselves, straining against whichever bottoms he wore..

He loosened his grip on Ron slightly, his hand dropping onto his hips. He had never given it much thought either, but not that they were practically official... Harry swallowed hard and strained his brain to remember what Seamus Finnigan, his friend from Hogwarts, had once told him about two men in bed.

"_Sometimes it hurts, ye, but tha' can be quite good."_ Harry remembered Seamus' eyes glittering with amusement. That time, Harry had actually found it gross, and he dared not to ask how Seamus should know. Especially because he had hinted that perhaps there was another boy at Hogwarts who enjoyed those things with him.

However, not everyone was as masochistic, so that didn't help.

Another part of the, on his part, unwilling conversation was that one needed lots of lubrication if they wanted to _put it in_, else one could tear the other person apart. That didn't sound too appealing either.

There was now a third thing he was sure about. No one, not even Ron, would stick anything up his arse. He hoped that there were other possibilities for them, like hands, or that Ron wouldn't mind the idea of Harry inside of him too much. But then, he had not even done it with Ginny yet, or anyone for that matter. How was he supposed to know what to do? He sincerely hoped that Seamus, who was incredibly cheeky and hot headed, had managed not to get himself killed. He didn't know who else he would ask, who else was gay, crazy and open enough to share such intimate secrets with him..

If Ron wanted to share such experiences, that was. Harry wasn't quite sure about it himself, although it was clear enough what his bottom half wanted. Could he actually do it? He had considered those things, but then the prospect had always been Ginny, and not Ron.

Now that he thought about it, they weren't so much different, if he imagined them genderless. Sure it did not matter whether he was playing with a hole or with a stick, right? Amused by the comparison, Harry let his gaze wander over Ron's resting form. Seamus had gone so far to admit that, although arrogant and slimey, Draco Malfoy had a wonderful backside. Malfoy, of all people.

Harry peeked downward at Ron's arse. It was round and shapely like an apple, and inches away from Harry's crotch. This revelation did not help much, and suddenly Harry's tongue felt rather dry. He assumed that was because he had nothing to drink the whole night, and now he was unwilling to get up and perhaps wake Ron, whose pajama bottoms hung dangerously low so that the Chosen One could follow the trace of his hipbone down to where a trickle of orange hair disappeared in the front. He quite liked that.

It was difficult, but Harry dragged his gaze back up and let it trail upward, where parts of naked skin stretched over firm, newly formed muscles.

And then he thought that, yes, he could definitely see himself on top of his best friend. Having Ron's friendly eyes look up to him with respect, slight confusion even. It would suit him.

"_Don' ye just want to grab it!"_ Seamus had exclaimed almost too loudly, and a few of the Slytherin students actually turned around and shot him a look. Malfoy's gaze was the most poisonous of all, as if he knew that they were talking about him, or rather, his arse.

Harry let his fingers wander over Ron's exposed stomach, and up and down his sides, before gripping his hips hard with one hand. He couldn't really go as far as groping his best friend's, now boyfriend's, arse, could he? Although it was tempting.. Harry swallowed thickly again and quickly brushed his hand over the well-formed backside in front of him. It was firm, amazingly so..

He trailed his fingers back up to Ron's hips and to his belly, where he curled them around short strand of thick, red hair. He played with the waistband for a while, his fingers acting on their own. It was wrong, this. It seemed almost like he was raping Ron, although he hadn't gone too far. He hadn't even considered what Ron would think was _too far_.

Technically, he would never have to tell, and Ron would never know. Hermione was outside, standing guard until they would move again. Harry's fingertips ghosted over Ron's thigh and pulled him slightly closer, until their bodies touched again. He was warm, good, he felt good.. the smell of him in his nose.. and then there was something else..

Something that, as soon as Harry realized what it was, made him groan in displeasure. Unwilling to trust his sense of touch, he gradually lowered his gaze to his crotch, where he was greeted with a rather large tent. _Damn you, Seamus Finnigan_. If it wasn't for Seamus, he wouldn't even have begin thinking about those things, in details.

"What the hell are you doing?" came a sleepy voice in front of him.

"Uhm." Harry replied. His wandering fingers came to an abrupt halt. "Nothing." he drew in breath sharply, hoping that Ron was thick enough not to realize how.. how damn hard he was.

"Is nothing currently poking into my arse?" Ron grumbled.

"Perhaps." said Harry sheepishly. He could observer Ron's ears reddening, and then there was silence until he broke it, "It isn't a problem, is it?"

"Hm." Ron replied after a moment, "It kinda is."

Harry pouted out of reflex. Ron couldn't see it, but he did it anyways.

"Well, I'm a man..." he began, but Ron cut him off.

"That's the thing." he said quietly, and Harry meant to hear him smile, "So am I."

They fell silent again, Harry's hand frozen on his thigh, itching to caress the skin through the wool. Of course it had to be strange for Ron, being in bed together with another man, feeling his large erection pressed against him.. Yet, Harry could not help but feel his heart twinge at the comment. What had Ron expected when they had kissed? That he would somehow magically turn into a girl, and have all the right parts that Hermione had? He knew he would feel awkward feeling Ron's penis pressing against him too, but he couldn't help that slight feeling of hurt either.

"Well I'm sorry.." he snarled. He was about to withdraw his hand from Ron, but the other man grabbed it and held it in place. A soft vibration ran through his body, and Harry stared at his back in confusion. "Look, if you don't like.." he began, irritably, but Ron interrupted him with a loud chuckle.

"You.. you just don't get it." he said, "I never thought I'd say this but... you're actually thicker than me."

"Huh?" replied Harry, dumbstruck. He didn't try to move his fingers again.

"It's hard to explain." Ron said, and suddenly the laughter was gone. Instead, he sounded reluctant now, almost shy. What was going on? Harry looked at him curiously, but half of his face was hidden in the pillow, and the skin of his neck was as fiercely red as his ears.

"Well then, show me." Harry prompted curiously.

"N-no!" Ron said quickly.

It couldn't be what he thought it was, could it? With a grin, Harry finally gave his hand permission to roam freely. As if it had only waited for that, it went straight for the waistband of Ron's pajamas, it's owner taking in a sharp breath that was oddly reassuring to Harry. He grazed the strands of orange hair again, and then cheekily slipped one finger into the pajama pants, then another. He didn't have to slide them very deeply before they bumped into something hard. Hard and fleshy.

Ron drew in breath sharply, and Harry swallowed. Not only his tongue was dry now, but his whole mouth felt as if he hadn't had a drink in several years. He had felt this before, done this before.. Done it many times, visualizing Ginny, then Ron. It was easy. His hands were almost shaking now, which was bad. If Ron felt that he was unsure about this, insecure even... he knew how this worked, he was a man himself!

Several seconds had passed, in which Harry should have done something! Wrapped his hand around it, started to caress it, stroke it... He could hear Ron's shallow breaths, terrified but yet expectant...

"H-Harry.." there was an audible tremor in Ron' voice. "Y-You don't have to.."

"But I want to." Harry whispered, and before he could reconsider, he wrapped his hand around Ron. They were about the same size, Harry realized, which would make this much easier than he had initially thought. Still, his brain was numb and empty.

What had Seamus said again?

"_Ye got ta worship it! Think of it as your own and just take it all in and suck. Use your tongue."_ Harry had felt awkward at the whirly-tongue movement that Seamus had demonstrated at this point, as if he had stepped into the set of the wrong film, and everyone had looked at him curiously.

Ron put his hand on Harry's tentatively, "It's alright, you know? I can take care of it."

"But I'm your boyfriend." protested the Chosen One.

Suddenly, they were face to face, and Ron's vivid brown eyes blazed widely into his.

"Well it's true." he said, feeling stupid.

"Are you that?"

"I thought I was.. I thought we were.." Harry mumbled, now avoiding his best friends slash boyfriend's eyes.

"Do you want us to be?" Ron was nervous, and it was obvious.

"Yes. I love you, Ron. I want us to be so much." Harry admitted, "Boyfriends, partners, best friends... everything."

"Once you make that deal, there's no going back."

"I love you." their eyes met again. Carefully, Harry placed his hands on Ron's cheeks and pulled him closer softly. Their lips touched, softly at first, before they struggled for dominance. It felt like they were battling, but Harry had the feeling that Ron let him have the upper hand too early to pass it off as his win.

And then, Harry lowered one hand back into the folds of his lover's pajama bottoms and gripped him firmly. He felt Ron twitch in his other hand, and he wanted to break the kiss, no doubt to argue, but Harry wouldn't let him. He already felt as if he had screwed up the first time, although he was happy to make Ron happy. And thankfully enough, all the information was slowly spreading back in his brain, and Seamus and his stupid, uncalled-for advice, faded in the background.


End file.
